


Your Own Personal Landfill

by Pippiuscattius



Series: The Garbage Pile Collection [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Aftermath of a Hurricane, Alternate Angel Lore (Supernatural), Alternate Canon, And v stressed about it, Anxiety, Attempt at Humor, Bird Habits, Brief Violence, Brief drug use, Caribbean Culture, Castiel Is Like a Bird, Castiel and Reader are Beachcombing Buddies, Castiel is Protective of Dean Winchester, Characters play D&D, Comfortably Bisexual Dean Winchester, Crude/Sexual Humor, Cuddling Castiel/Dean Winchester, Dean Handles Feelings Somewhat Better than Usual, Dean Is also a Nerd, Dean is Loved, Dimension Travel, Dominica, Dungeons & Dragons 5th Edition, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Except the Timeline's Been Changed, F/M, Female Reader, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, I know the first one in this series was second person POV but this is just easier, Language, M/M, Matchmaker Reader, Mentions of Dysfunctional Family, Miscommunication, Nesting, POV First Person, Panic Attacks, Possibly idk I just made up some stuff, Probably more so now actually, Rated T for:, Rating May Change, Reader Is In College, Reader Ships Dean Winchester/Castiel, Reader is 18, Reader is an Honorary Winchester, Reader is still an ocean nerd, Reader-Insert, Sam Comforts Reader, Sam Winchester Ships Castiel/Dean Winchester, Sam gets a dog, Sam is a good bean, Sam is a nerd, Sam loves dogs, Set Roughly in Season 9, So a Lotta Bad Stuff Didn't Happen, Some Cultural Misunderstanding/Accidental Insensitivity, Stalker(?) Reader, Tropical Vacation, Winged Castiel, Yes that's in here, because he deserves it, feathers - Freeform, for fun, molting, reader has anxiety, travel fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-23
Updated: 2019-06-20
Packaged: 2020-03-13 03:40:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 159,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18932662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pippiuscattius/pseuds/Pippiuscattius
Summary: The Alaska Incident may have come and gone, but as an anxious child gifted with the ability to travel between worlds, stressors are never far behind. Luckily for you, you have Sam, Dean, and Castiel to help you power through the obstacles in your life, including but not limited to the Hell that is college, a roommate insistent that you need a vacay, a squadron of POed angels out for your head, and an impossible task assigned to you by two giant space cats....Wait, what?





	1. Chapter 1: In which you're an anxious college student, Dean bargains with cats, Cas practices his Spanish, and Sam is an excellent student counselor

**Author's Note:**

> Remember how I turned one of my vacations into a story starring our favorite trio of apocalypse-averters? Well, it happened again. What can I say? I guess it's just a compulsive self-soothing habit at this point.
> 
> In this edition of "sharing my garbage-ridden inner world," I took inspiration from my experiences on the Caribbean island of Dominica, one of my favorite places in probably the entire world. I drew inspiration from the locales, the people, and the recent devastation wrought upon it by hurricane Maria, all the while inserting Team Free Will and their antics as they experience a world separate from pretty much anything they've ever experienced. All I can hope is that someone else will take the plunge into this landfill, enjoy the experience, and perhaps learn a few things about another culture along the way.
> 
> And yes, friends, there will be much Destiel, because I have no self-control.

_~5/23/18~_

Life’s breakneck pace never failed to catch me off guard. One second, I was fleeing across North America with my favorite fictional characters in tow, and the next I was spending every waking hour filling out college applications.

There was no escaping it: now that I was an adult, I’d have to do adult things like go into higher education, seek a career, and live on my own. To say it was daunting to be flung into all of this without warning was the understatement of my entire life. If nothing else, at least I would be able to leave home.

Right, that was supposed to be one of the most difficult hurdles for people my age, wasn’t it? Well, just because I’d outsmarted a crazy genie and survived over a week with the Winchesters, that didn’t mean every one of my life’s problems dissolved into rainbows and puppy dogs.

My family was still…on thin ice, to say the least. After reappearing in my own world on my sailboat, the first thing I did was lift anchor and cruise the craft back to the marina. Then, though I dreaded what may await me, I walked home.

I was greeted with equal parts relief and anger from my family. Local police had been searching for me for about as long as I’d been gone to no avail. When questioned, I just told everyone I’d taken the sailboat out on the river and gone cruising for a week. Of course, they thought I meant cruising on the sailboat, not on a massive ship in Alaska, but no one had the mind to consider that.

The one bit of total truth I did share was the reason I’d left: the turmoil at home was too much for me to bear anymore. That didn’t surprise anyone, but it did earn me a promise from my parents that they would make an effort to take their conflict outside of the house if and when it did erupt.

Conflict didn’t erupt for a long time after that. I think they were just so relieved to have me back that it was hard to focus on anything else. Yet that proved to only be a temporary fix; a missing child in a family may take precedence over marital problems, but my return meant there was nothing to distract my parents from their differences anymore.

Luckily, I still had my ability to escape. I used it often, visiting Sam, Dean, and Castiel whenever things got rough or just because I felt like it. My wish was still serving me well, providing me a second family to turn to when my real one couldn’t offer much beyond heartbreak and stress.

Speaking of stress…about those college applications. Of course my parents expected me to attend a university now that I’d graduated high school. I’d always assumed I would, but it snuck up on me out of nowhere. My family was more than a little caught up in itself, so that left me alone to navigate the research and online paperwork portion of the process all on my own.

Or at least I would have been on my own if I hadn’t known a certain moose who’d gone through the exact same thing.

Sam was the biggest help I could have possibly asked for. The first time I brought up to him that I was working on applying to schools, his face lit up and he immediately volunteered to help me with anything I needed. He knew fully well what it was like to seek higher education without support or direct help from one’s family, and though he’d failed to complete his education, I think that only spurred him on further to ensure the same didn’t happen to me.

It became a routine to visit him whenever I could with my laptop so we could browse schools from my world and pick out those that looked most promising for my interests. He taught me how to fill out applications, what to look for, and most importantly of all encouraged me to seek out scholarships. It was only thanks to scholarship money that Sam had been able to go to school at all, and though I doubted my own ability to earn much of anything, he insisted that I could get some of my own if I really tried.

And boy oh boy, did I ever try. And boy oh _boy_ , did it ever pay off.

One of the schools I applied to happened to offer a full ride to anyone who met certain qualifications and could manage an interview on its campus. Had I been on my own, I would have only taken one look at the requirements and not even considered it. With Sam peering over my shoulder at my laptop, however, I had all the encouragement I needed to at least attempt.

That ended up paying off more handsomely than I could have ever imagined. I met every qualification, some just barely, and that only left the interview. That was the part I really wanted nothing to do with, but if I’d gotten this far…

Anxiety hadn’t magically stopped being a thing in my life, particularly when it came to socializing, so an interview was a nightmare scenario for me. Sam decided to help me practice by hosting a couple of mock interviews for me in the bunker. He enlisted Dean and Castiel’s help for one of them, casting them as the interviewers. He’d called it somewhat of a disaster, but I’d considered it a success; if I could manage to improvise responses to the out-of-left-field questions those two threw at me, surely I could handle an actual structured interview.

And miraculously, I did. I don’t know if it was just my survival instincts kicking in or what, but I passed the college’s screening and was granted the scholarship.

My first semester started that fall, and Sam did what he could to prepare me for what awaited me. Yet no amount of preparation could have fully acclimated me to the sweeping changes my life underwent once I arrived on campus.

Most everyone knows that college is hard, but no matter how many times someone thinks or hears that, they don’t really understand just _how_ hard it really is until they get there. I took as light a semester as I could and still felt drained by the time winter break arrived. It wasn’t just the schoolwork; the college social scene was, to put it bluntly, a socially anxious introvert’s worst nightmare come alive.

Crowds everywhere you went. Countless class presentations. Mandatory group projects with total strangers. And dear god, the parties. I never attended any of them, but just the sounds emanating from them alone were enough to make me anxious.

Living in a dorm room was nice, at least. I had my own space to retreat to, and I could slip away to visit Team Free Will easily without anyone batting an eye. I did have a roommate, but she was more socially active than I. Unlike me, she actually did attend the parties with their ear-wrenchingly loud music and clustered people. On a few occasions she even attempted to convince me to go with her, but I adamantly refused.

Come to think of it, she was the closest thing to a college friend I had. We got along well, had some of the same interests, and although our personalities differed by a lot, we came to trust each other. She noticed I wasn’t in our dorm often, but she assumed I was out at the library or walking one of the trails down a quieter part of campus. She had no clue I was escaping into a fictional world to do my homework and study in the quiet of an underground bunker.

If I thought my first semester was a challenge, I should’ve braced myself for my second one.

Word to the wise: do not take eighteen hours of college classes if you can help it. Unless you’re looking for next to no free time, stress-induced illness, and nightly migraines, just don’t do it.

All of those things and more attacked me throughout the winter and spring months of that year. I suppose I should have thought myself lucky that I didn’t have much in the way of social obligations to distract me from my all-consuming studies. Regardless, it was a drain on my psyche that caused more than a few anxious breakdowns.

The only solace I had was being away from home. But was it better to be living in a house where fighting between loved ones was the norm, or to be hours away from all that dealing with a hellish load of social isolation and the workload of six classes?

My trips to the bunker were probably the only thing that held me together. Sam helped me practice for tests when he could, Dean cooked small but sufficient meals for me when I didn’t have the time or will to pick up something from the school cafeteria, and Castiel tried to cheer me up with cute animal videos on his phone. That was all phenomenal help and all; the only obstacle was that usually most or all of them were busy dealing with some supernatural threat, so there was no telling if they’d be available to help me when I needed it.

Finals week was the worst. It had just barely started and I already wanted to drop out more than I ever had before.

Not that dropping out was an option. I’d worked hard for my scholarship and I could not afford to squander that, and I couldn’t bear to return home; spending a month back there for winter break was hard enough.

It was one night in particular where things flew completely and utterly off the rails in a way I could have never predicted. It was a Monday that I’d spent entirely within the confines of the library, living off vending machine snacks and frequent trips to the water fountain. I had two exams the next day, one of which was at eight AM, and a paper that had to be submitted before midnight. The entire library was crawling with other students cramming for their own finals, but I was lucky enough to snatch an isolated corner with a table all to myself.

The time was nearly midnight. I’d already visited the bunker once and found neither hide nor tail of any of its inhabitants inside. I considered staying there to work anyways, but I really did like my corner in the library, so I left.

My laptop’s clock read 11:59 when I submitted my essay. The stress from trying to finish it in time literally left my fingers shaking; I’d been tapping and tapping and tapping on that keyboard nonstop for hours. That was to say nothing of my exams, which although I’d been studying for, I still didn’t feel confident enough to do especially well on.

Trite as it might seem to more causal students, I didn’t have a choice but do well on my work. Should my GPA drop below an A average, my scholarship would be revoked.

I stumbled back to my dorm late that night. The campus was ominous and cast with shadows as I walked and nearly tripped over the sidewalk back to my residence hall. No one was out at that hour that I could see, but that didn’t stop my paranoia from creeping in.

It turned out that paranoia was well-justified, because a figure did appear in my line of sight. It was standing off in the middle of the grassy quad in front of my hall, and alarmingly, it was making a beeline towards me.

Gasping as my heart kicked into overdrive, I broke into a sprint. Through a combination of clumsy footing, exhaustion, and the weight of my backpack, I tripped and fell sideways onto the grass almost immediately.

My shin throbbed in pain from where it collided with the sidewalk, but it didn’t hurt bad enough to keep me off my feet. Scrambling over the dewy grass, I struggled to pull myself up under the crushing weight of the textbooks and laptop strapped to my back. The instant I did heave myself to my feet, I was ready to run, but a face right in front of mine stopped me. Even months later, I still recognized the features as quickly as their image reached my brain.

Oh, for goodness sake. After what happened last time we met, I thought he said he never wanted to see me again.

Standing in all his pinstriped glory was none other than my genie, staring down at me with his mouth drawn into a thin, unamused line. I stumbled back under the gaze of his sunglasses, nearly falling again but managing to just barely keep my footing this time. If he was here, it couldn’t mean anything good.

“Genie,” I choked out a greeting. “Wha–, what’re you– I swear, I haven’t–”

“You haven’t violated your contract, if you think that’s why I’m here,” he interrupted. “You’ve done surprisingly well at keeping up your end of the bargain and keeping your mouth shut.”

My heart slowed down a little upon hearing that. “Oh…right, okay. I thought you didn’t ever want to see me–”

“I’m not here because I want to be,” he growled out. “I’m here only as a courtesy to you and your friends, and also to chew you out for your sheer idiocy!”

I flinched. “What…are you talking about?”

“You know what I’m talking about!” He pointed a finger trembling with anger right at my face. “The stunt you pulled in Atlanta!”

Atlanta…I hadn’t been there since we’d flown in from Seattle during the Alaska incident. I tried to think back to what could’ve happened while we were there that would upset my genie, but nothing immediately came to mind.

“I…I really don’t know what you’re talking about,” I meekly admitted.

“You…!” He looked about ready to get to that chewing out he’d mentioned, but stopped, face twisting in bewilderment. “You…really don’t know?”

Weakly shaking my head, I confirmed, “No, I don’t.”

Huffing a broken laugh, my genie shook his head and let his gaze wander around the quad. “Unbelievable. Absolutely…unbelievable.”

“… _Should_ I know what you’re talking about?”

He spun back around to face me, holding out his hands emphatically. “If you’re at all active in that Supernatural fandom of yours, yes, you should!”

With the sheer truckloads of work I’d been assigned this semester, I’d barely had time to do much of anything that wasn’t school-related. That included keeping up with any of the shows I watched, even my favorite among them.

“I’ve been…busy,” I explained. “It’s hard to keep up with things in college.”

“Right,” the genie huffed, not satisfied by that excuse in the least. “In that case, you listen here: go to your little dorm, open your laptop, and find out for yourself just how big of a mess you’ve made.”

Curious fear struck me. “Where do I need to look?”

“Go to any Supernatural site and I guarantee you’ll find out,” the genie whispered menacingly. “It’s a pretty. Big. Deal. You don’t know it yet, but you are in grave amounts of trouble. Not only that, but you’ve also managed to get _me_ in grave amounts of trouble, too. My business might even go belly-up if this keeps up!”

My insides knotted painfully. What on earth could’ve possibly happened that would get both of us in such hot water?

“I’ll look into it,” I managed in a shaky voice.

“You better. And you’d also better prepare yourself for the repercussions of this, because they will not be pretty for any of us.” He lowered the brim of his shades to pin me under his cobalt stare. “Just thought I’d give you a fair warning.”

Then, he was gone. One second he was there, and the next he wasn’t. He was even worse than Castiel when it came to untimely teleporting…

Shaking myself, I sped back to my residence hall. My hands were trembling so badly that I could barely slide my ID card through the reader at the front door, but I made it inside and climbed the staircase to my dorm as quickly as I could manage.

My roommate was strikingly absent from the tiny room when I arrived. She wasn’t in her bed, at her desk, or in our bathroom, which meant she must be out and about like usual. Now that I thought about it, I did remember her telling me earlier that day she was planning to help a friend study for their biology final…

Satisfied that I was alone, I opened my backpack and pulled my laptop from its sleeve within. I rushed to set it up on the surface of my desk and pull up the internet. The wait for my browser to load was agonizing; _why_ did the campus wi-fi have to suck?

Once it did load, I typed in “Supernatural TV show news” to see what I’d find, both dreading and anticipating the results. One more long loading time later, I was met with a baffling mix of pages.

“The Great Supernatural Shapeshifter Mystery,” read one link. Another said, “J2M Just as Confused as the Rest of Us.”

The stars of the show were tangled up in this somehow? This _was_ big.

One link to a Tumblr page caught my eye. It read: “SPN Shapeshifter Mystery Masterpost; Come Here if You’re Confused.”

I certainly was confused, so I followed the link. It brought me to a blog with a mosaic background of anti-possession tattoos, devil’s traps, and angel banishing sigils. Contained within it was a lengthy post with the same title as the link that had taken me to it. If I wanted answers, this was probably the best place to find them.

_Welcome to my masterpost of the mystery currently sweeping the SPN fandom,_ read the page. _If you’ve been browsing any SPN pages recently, you’ve probably heard a thing or about this “Shapeshifter Mystery.” A lot of people have been expressing confusion about the whole thing, and I hope to remedy that here by compiling all the information we currently have._

I scrolled down a bit, revealing a video embedded in the post. _If you want the gist of it, this video is a good place to start. It’s a news story I found from a local station that I think sums it all up pretty well._

Though scared of what it would hold, I started the video and brought it up to full screen. The quality wasn’t that great, like it had been ripped from a cheap television, but it was good enough. A woman sat behind a table in what looked like a newsroom. The video started just as she was on the tail end of talking about something else, but as the camera changed perspectives to show a close-up, the story I was waiting for began. 

The reporter glanced down at a packet of papers on her desk, addressing the camera professionally. “In other local news, a mystery baffles investigators, but they end up finding support from an unlikely source: the avid fandom of a cult TV show called Supernatural.” 

Leaning towards my laptop and turning up my volume, I gave the screen my full attention. The video faded to show footage of police officers huddled over a table, quietly discussing something. 

“It should have been a routine, open and shut case,” said the reporter’s voiceover. “But what started as a simple investigation of a minor misdemeanor has spiraled into a conundrum the likes of which the Atlanta police department has never seen. The question they’re facing should have an easy answer: Is it possible for someone to be in two places at once? You’d think the answer would be no, but investigators have found evidence to the contrary. 

“It all started with a car abandoned on the roadside.” The video faded to an image of a familiar blue Prius covered in leaves and dirt. 

I inhaled as the car came into focus. “Oh god…” I breathed out. That was our rental car from way back when we left the Atlanta airport. I’d been so busy getting the boat back where it needed to be that I’d completely forgotten about it… 

“This Prius was rented from a service at the Atlanta airport last July,” the voiceover continued. “According to records, it was never returned and the company has been trying to track it down ever since. It was marked as missing until it was found and reported by a couple hiking through the woods nearby, who called in local authorities when they noticed the car’s rundown condition. From there, it was tracked back to the rental company, and that’s where the real mystery begins.” 

The video shifted again, this time to show the exterior of the exact rental place we’d gone to in the Atlanta airport. My heart thudded a little louder in my chest. 

“The car was reportedly rented by four people, three men and a teenage girl. An ID provided by one of the men labelled him as Mr. Steve Rogers, but scouring records revealed that no such man matching his credentials exists. More bafflingly than that was the story provided by the man who reportedly rented the car to them in the first place.” 

The video feed changed to an interviewing segment inside the rental store. The interviewee was…the rental guy. He looked the same as the last time I’d seen him, still clad in professional dress and waiting behind his counter. 

“Yeah, they were a weird bunch,” he spoke into the microphone in front of him. “I didn’t realize who they were at first. They were fumbling around with their money a lot, had to pull together all the cash they had and still couldn’t afford to rent the car.” 

The microphone was angled towards offscreen, where a reporter then spoke into it. “If they couldn’t afford the car, why did you let them have it?” 

Laughing to himself, the rental guy spoke into the mic again when it was pointed back towards him. “I recognized who they were eventually, those guys from the monster show on TV.” 

“Supernatural?” the reported asked for clarification. 

“That’s the one! Can never remember that name…anyways, I made them a deal. I’d pay the extra for their car if they’d take a picture with me for my cousin; she loves their show. I had no idea they’d just abandon the car like that…the police took the picture as evidence and I don’t really know what’s been happening since then.” 

The longer I watched, the harder my breathing got. I definitely knew where this was going, and I did not like it one bit. 

Sure enough, the photo in question appeared on the screen next. The rental guy stood in one corner, and huddled against the counter beside him were Sam, Dean, and Castiel, all wearing weak smiles. 

“The photo in question was proof of who these men were,” the reporter’s voice explained. “Jared Padalecki, Jensen Ackles, and Misha Collins, the three main stars of the TV show Supernatural all dressed in the garb of their characters. Although the fourth person was not in the photo, security camera footage shows that she was indeed present as claimed." 

A brief clip of black-and-white, jittery security footage played then, showing the interior of the rental store. Standing near the edge of the frame were Sam, Dean, Castiel…and me, fidgeting behind them. 

This was really not what I pictured when I hoped to be on TV one day. 

“The poor quality of the footage has made it impossible to determine for certain who this girl is,” said the reporter. “Airport records have proved inconclusive for determining this as well. Police were greatly troubled by her involvement, and allegations of potential kidnapping were thrown into the mix.” 

The video returned to the interview of the rental guy. “The girl was there with them, yeah. She didn’t look or sound like she was in any trouble, though; did a lot of the talking, actually. She told me she’d won a contest to get to take a trip with the actors.” 

The feed returned to the photo. “No record of such a contest exists,” said the reporter. “But even if one person couldn’t be identified, three of the four suspects had confirmed identities and photographic proof of being present at the scene. It should have been an easy matter of tracking them down and presenting them with the evidence, except when they were found, all three of them had an airtight alibi.” 

I jumped a little as a scene from Supernatural suddenly flashed on the screen. Sam and Dean were being flung back into a wall by a monster, thumping about loudly as they collided with the wooden frame of a building. 

“On TV, they play fearless monster hunters,” the audio quieted so the voiceover could be heard once more. “But in real life, they’re actors with a huge, devoted fanbase and golden reputation. As unlikely culprits as they seemed, the police went ahead with their investigation. When presented with the evidence, all three of them were, in the investigators’ own words, ‘completely, genuinely baffled.’” 

Reels of the three at various conventions alongside fans played then. “As it would turn out, they had evidence of their own proving they weren’t anywhere near the rental company; rather, they were all the way in Vancouver filming their show. Timestamps on that day’s footage proved that they had been on set at the exact time recorded by the security cameras, thousands of miles away from the incident. Eyewitness accounts from countless people on the show’s set confirmed that they were present for a full day of filming, and that they’d in fact been working on set for days prior and afterwards. While cases with conflicting evidence have cropped up in the past, this may be one of the most extreme. 

“Fans of Supernatural have leaped to the defense of the actors since this went public, as have the actors’ friends and families. The actors themselves have cooperated in full with authorities while they struggle to figure out how to explain this apparent phenomenon, lightheartedly commenting that they’d each ‘always wanted to have a doppelganger.’” 

The video faded back to the reporter behind her desk, staring right into the camera. “While investigators have been left utterly stumped, Supernatural fans have been tossing about their own theories as they’ve attempted to wedge themselves into the investigation. Some claim that it was the work of shapeshifters, a type of creature from the show that is able to take on the appearance of another person and pretend to be them. Others claim that the three men present at the rental store were not the actors, but rather the actual characters they play, brothers Sam and Dean Winchester and their angel friend, Castiel. 

“Though outlandish, these explanations have been seriously considered and debated among the fandom. Atlanta investigators have been receiving calls on the daily from these avid fans, each one of them toting more unbelievable explanations than the last. In all fairness, the official investigation’s best explanation isn’t much better: the current working theory is that the real suspects are three superfans of the show who decided to receive intensive plastic surgery to appear just like Padalecki, Ackles, and Collins, and as improbable as that may seem, it’s all they have to work on currently. The photo has been reviewed by experts and determined to be authentic, which shattered the previous theory that the image was doctored.” 

The rental guy reappeared on the screen then, looking off camera at an interviewer. “Do you think there’s any possibility that the three men you saw were not the stars of Supernatural?” she asked. 

He thought about it for a moment as the microphone turned towards him. “I mean, they sure looked like them. I’ve never actually watched the show, so I wasn’t completely sure at the time. If it wasn’t for the picture, I still wouldn’t be sure! But I will say, at first they insisted they were not the actors, even when I asked them directly. Only time they admitted it was when I told them I’d pay for the rest of the rental. They started acting real weird around then too, so…” He shrugged. “I’d believe it. This whole thing is weird, I’ll give you that.” 

The reporter behind the table then came back into view. “Until any further developments occur in this case, it remains in stasis. If anyone has any information about who the girl accompanying these three men might be, they’re encouraged to contact the Atlanta Police Department.” 

The video abruptly ended then, leaving me staring at my wide-eyed reflection in my laptop’s black screen. 

_Holy crap._ I never would have thought something this massive could come from the Alaska incident. It took several minutes of me just sitting there and silently processing it all to even grasp that it was real. 

I numbly scrolled through the rest of the masterpost, which basically summarized everything the video had alongside the various theories proposed by fans. I checked for myself on a few fansites and confirmed that it was one of the number one topics of discussion, with fans calling out things about real-life shapeshifters or Sam, Dean, and Castiel being real. I couldn’t tell entirely how serious these discussions were, but some of them were so close to the truth that I was terrified. 

Some amount of time passed; I’m not sure exactly how much, I suspect I was dissociating. The only thing that snapped me back to awareness was my roommate reentering the dorm. She froze when she saw me hunched over at my desk. 

“[Y/N]?” she asked, sounding shocked. “It’s past one AM! Don’t you have an eight AM exam tomorrow?” 

Shaking myself back to reality, I mumbled, “Y-yeah…” 

“Get to bed!” she insisted, rushing over to my side. She paused when she got a better look at my face. “…Are you alright, girlie?” 

Since I couldn’t tell her the truth, I just said one word that summed up my current situation: “Stressed.” 

“Jeez, finals really are taking a toll on you…” Trailing off, she began pacing the room. She snapped back to face me as something evidently brilliant occurred to her. “You know what you need?” 

“Sleep?” I groggily guessed. 

“Right now, yes, but I’m thinking about long-term.” 

I thought again. “A therapist?” 

“Possibly, but I was thinking what you need is a vacation.” 

Turning back around to raise an eyebrow at her, I waited for her to elaborate. 

“With all the crap you’ve got on your plate right now, you need to get away from it all,” she airily continued. “Have you ever heard of a place called Dominica?” 

It sounded vaguely familiar. “You mean the Dominican Republic? Yeah, I went there when I lived on a sailboat.” 

“No, just Dominica!” she corrected. “You’re thinking too far north. Dominica is a little island in the Caribbean down by Guadalupe. I know you lived on the ocean; I think it’d be the perfect place for you to visit!” 

That certainly sounded appealing, but the logistics simply wouldn’t work. “I don’t have the money for that. Where would I even stay?” 

My roommate grinned. “My grandmother has a second home on the island. Usually she rents it out while she’s not there, but I know for a fact she doesn’t have any renters right now. If I asked her, I bet I could pull some strings and get you a stay there free of charge.” 

A quick note about my roommate: she has a large, pretty well-off family. Half of them lived in England and had vacation homes across the world; it was no surprise to me that one of her relatives had one in the Caribbean. 

The idea was really starting to appeal to me but my brain kept conjuring more reasons it wouldn’t work. “That sounds great, but…I dunno. I’ve never travelled that far alone before.” “Then take some friends!” she cheerily suggested. “My grandmother wouldn’t mind, as long as you don’t break anything!" 

Friends…as soon as she said that, three particular people came to mind. With the rental car debacle, I was hesitant to bring them to my world anytime in the foreseeable future, but a tiny tropical island would be pretty far away from that hubbub. 

“I…I’ll think about it,” I relented, exhaustion weighing me down. “But right now, I just…need to get through finals.” 

“Gotcha. Get to bed, girlie.” 

Although I crawled into my bunk immediately after that, I don’t think I fell asleep for another hour at least. How could I when I just found out I’d inadvertently caused such a mishap? There was no easy way to explain this away, and although I doubted the investigators would seriously consider any suggestions about the culprits being the real characters, it still pointed to a multiversal anomaly out in plain sight. 

The genie’s parting words echoed in my head. _“And you’d also better prepare yourself for the repercussions of this, because they will not be pretty for any of us.”_

Whatever repercussions he was talking about, I didn’t want to find out what they were. 

In short, despite the complications, I survived finals week. I took my eight AM exam and suffered immensely, but I passed with a higher grade than I’d expected. My other exams passed without a hitch only because I buckled down and refused to let anything distract me, even my stresses and worries. Though I nearly collapsed under the weight of it all, I scraped by. 

Wednesday was the day of my final exam, and it was over with by noon. I returned to my dorm not feeling anywhere near as relieved as a student done with finals should; there was still so much to linger on, so many things to stress about. 

Against my better judgement, I pulled up that blog’s masterpost on the Shapeshifter Mystery. I thought that maybe, just maybe, if I read over it again, I might be able to rationalize the ridiculous situation and stop worrying about it so much. 

Predictably, the exact opposite happened. 

The post was just the same as I’d left it before, with the news video, the typed summary, and the overview of the fandom’s theories and topics of discussion. But when I reached the very bottom…the bolded word “ **UPDATE** ” was typed in large capital letters. Beneath that was a brief message from the original poster. 

_There’s been a small update on the case as of this Wednesday. After going through the airport records more thoroughly, the investigators have reported that they’ve most likely figured out where the “doppelgangers” came from: Seattle, Washington._

 _A steward and stewardess came forward and reported that they had seen the group on a flight from Seattle to Atlanta earlier that day. Their claims were verified upon checking passenger records and finding that the four suspects were indeed on the plane. It’s suspected that they forged the information they provided to purchase their tickets, because none of it matched existing records._

Right then, I thanked my lucky stars that we’d used the Winchesters’ information rather than mine, or else I’d be directly linked to the investigation. I really did not know how to explain myself in this situation without breaking my contract and also the laws of the universe. 

_This development has served to further the case in two ways: 1) It has further distanced J2M from the incident, and 2) It will likely make way for more investigation into what path the suspects travelled._

_I’ll post more updates as they come. In the meantime, keep speculating, SPN fandom!_

Welp. They’d officially figured out part of our route. If they tracked us back far enough to when I’d used my passport, they’d know who I was for sure and then I’d be dead meat. That made me want to panic. 

Instead of panicking, however, I could think of multiple far more productive things I could partake in. Like getting far, far away from this mess, or maybe alerting the Winchesters of what was happening and asking for their advice/assistance? 

Right then, my roommate’s invitation to go to Dominica was starting to sound really tempting. Provided the Winchesters were up for it, I could invite them along as my friends and distance myself from all the goings-on in the investigation. I’d feel infinitely more secure that way, and a vacation really was what I needed. I suspected the Winchesters would be thankful for another break as well. And…I really did not want to return home for the summer. As far as I knew, my family was still in shambles, and I couldn’t bear to be around that. 

That settled it. I pulled my phone from my pocket and loaded my bookmarked Netflix tab. As soon as it appeared on the screen, I reached towards the image of the Men of Letters bunker I kept on hand. I hadn’t visited them at all since I devoted myself to finals; cutting out every distraction meant cutting out my few social ties for a while, too. All I had to do was show up in the bunker, fill them in on the situation, and make a plan. 

The angels threw a wrench in that series of events as soon as I appeared. 

Ordinarily I would appear in the bunker and find one or all of Team Free Will’s members quietly attending to some task. This time, all three of them were there alongside four other people I didn’t recognize. Everyone appeared to be in the middle of a scuffle in the war room, Castiel going hand-to-hand with two of the people at once and slashing at them with his angel blade. Sam and Dean were each fighting one of the two remaining people, and they didn’t appear to be faring quite as well against their attackers. 

I probably would have bolted and hidden somewhere further into the bunker if not for one detail: I could see wings on each of the four attackers. The diminutive guy fighting Sam had dark fuchsia wings, the short-haired girl backing Dean into a corner had green wings covered in black speckles, and of the two foes Castiel faced, one had faded peach wings and the other had his goldenrod wings spread wide and high above the fray. 

Against my better instincts, I impulsively slipped my phone into my pocket but otherwise stayed put. I’d seen Castiel’s wings a million times by this point, but never had the opportunity to see the wings of others angels. It didn’t look like anyone had even noticed I’d arrived, so I just took a few quiet steps backwards further into the library. 

That was when someone noticed. Goldenrod-wings happened to turn his head my way, and he subtly nodded to his companion. Peach-wings, an older woman with braided blonde hair, pulled away from Castiel and turned her full attention to me. 

Frozen, I stared back at her. Just as my limbs thawed enough to swing me around and carry me away, I was face-to-face with her. How could I have forgotten that angels teleport? 

Before I could make another move, Peach-wings grabbed me with inhuman strength and held me against her vessel. Something cold pressed against my throat, and when I peeked down, I saw it was her angel blade. I don’t think there’s any shame in saying I openly whimpered when I realized just how screwed I was. 

“Got her,” Peach-wings called, and right then the other angels stopped their attack. 

Goldenrod-wings, a young black man in a light suit with a stitched golden tie, took a step away from the range of Castiel’s blade and nodded at us. “Very good, Annaron,” he said in a deep, accented voice. 

When Castiel saw I’d gotten caught up in commotion, I send him a pleading look. His expression dampened. 

“Raziel, let her go,” Castiel demanded of Goldenrod-wings. “She has nothing to do with this.” 

"She has everything to do with this, Castiel,” Raziel calmly countered. “She is the little pet of yours who takes you travelling between worlds, isn’t she?" 

Although Castiel didn’t answer, his silence was a definite affirmative. 

I struggled in Annaron’s grasp, but she swiftly halted me by digging her blade just a bit further into my neck. She glared down at me and I whimpered again. 

“Quite curious, isn’t she?” Raziel mused. “As far as I can tell, she’s a completely normal human…except somehow, she walks freely between worlds without the use of a spell. How exactly is that?” 

I realized he was talking to me. All I could choke out was, “I can’t tell you.” 

Though Raziel was vaguely disappointed, he waved a hand dismissively. “No matter. That’s not what we’re here for, I was merely curious.” 

“Then what are you here for?” Dean demanded, daring to take a step forward. Speckle-wings held up her blade menacingly and he halted, but he still glared razor-edged daggers at Raziel and Annaron. 

“You know what we’re here for by now,” Raziel cryptically replied. “This is only, what, the third time in two days that we’ve ambushed you?” 

_I can’t even leave you guys alone for two days,_ I lamented to myself. 

“You don’t have to do this,” Castiel interrupted, backing away from Raziel. 

“You know that we do,” Raziel replied, sounding slightly apologetic. “You’ve dug yourself into this hole, Castiel. Abiding by the rules of heaven, we must put a stop to this now.” 

“We have done _nothing_ wrong," Castiel insisted. 

“Those two and the girl didn’t know of any wrongdoing,” Raziel agreed. “But you, Castiel, knew the dangers posed by your actions from the very beginning, and you still allowed this to happen.”

Shame flickered over Castiel’s face, but he kept a hard line of sight with Raziel as he slowly backed further away from the fray.

Out of nowhere, Dean started chuckling. Speckle-wings bristled with anger and raised her blade, but Raziel stopped her.

“Viviel, let him laugh,” Raziel soothed. “I have heard it is a natural fear response in some humans.”

"Oh, I’m not laughing ‘cause I’m afraid,” Dean corrected. “I’m laughing because you idiots let Cas get away long enough to do this.” 

Dean and Castiel glanced at each other in the space of a millisecond, and before any of the angels could question what was going on, Castiel slammed his palm against a hidden corner of the wall. 

The angels’ eyes widened as a flash spread outwards across the room. I shielded my eyes, hearing each of the angels howling in pained anger. Annaron’s grip on me lessened and then disappeared entirely, as did the threatening edge of her blade. 

Once the flash subsided and I was free, I stumbled forward into the war room. Peering down towards the corner where Castiel was huddled, I found exactly what I expected: a hidden angel banishing sigil painted on the wall. 

“Good job, Cas,” Sam praised as he pushed away from the wall. “I’m glad you thought to put that there in case they found us.” 

“They will find us again,” Castiel warned. “That sigil will only keep them disoriented for a short time, and if I know Raziel, he won’t give up until he’s finished his mission.” 

“That son of a bitch does _not_ know when to quit,” Dean quipped as he stepped forward to join the group. “You think he bought it when I pretended I didn’t know what we did wrong?” He nudged Castiel with his elbow. 

“I doubt it,” Castiel said uncertainly. 

“Does anyone wanna tell me what’s going on?” I cut in. 

The three of them paused and turned to face me, having momentarily forgotten I was even there. 

“Right, um…” Castiel’s wings ruffled nervously. “Hello, [Y/N].” 

Stepping forward to join in the discussion, I asked, “What were angels doing here?” 

“We committed an act against heaven,” Castiel solemnly explained. 

“And a bunch of angels have been looking for an excuse to wipe us out for a long time now,” Sam supplemented. “This was a golden opportunity for them.” 

“…What did you guys do?” I asked, dreading the answer. 

The response I got wasn’t really what I’d expected. Everyone turned quiet and looked away from me. Sam coughed uncomfortably. 

“What?” I asked, unable to bear the tension. 

“You see…” Castiel hesitated. “Recently, Dean and I…finally consummated our relationship.” 

Well _that_ definitely explained the awkwardness. At first, I really wasn’t sure what to say, but something occurred to me then and I reflexively spoke. 

“Wait, just _now_?” I asked, incredulous. “I thought, like…it’s been almost a year, surely you would’ve already–” 

“We were taking it at our own pace!” Dean defended, red faintly staining his cheeks. “I told you, Cas is…Cas is different, it took us time to–” 

“Spare us the details, please,” Sam pleaded. 

Shaking my head, I tried to wrap my mind around all of this. “What does that have to do with the angels?” 

Castiel sighed. “Heaven is particularly wary of human-angel relationships because of their potential to produce Nephilim. As such, they have forbidden them.” 

“But…you’re both guys!” I objected. “You can’t–” 

“Raziel insists that if I wanted to, I could take a female vessel and conceive,” Castiel explained. “Although I certainly do not want to take a different vessel, he says that the risk is still too great to allow.” 

“Really, he just wants an excuse to get rid of you two,” Sam added. “And he roped me into it, too. Since I apparently encouraged their relationship, he considers me guilty by extension.” 

That spurred a frightening thought in me. “Wait, and since I was the one who got you two together, does that mean I’m also…?” 

“He considers you a target, yes,” Castiel confirmed my fears. “I’m sorry to get you caught up in all of this, but…” He turned downtrodden. “If I had taken the time to fully consider the risks before acting, none of us would be in this mess.” 

“Hey, hey, we’ve been over this,” Dean gently interjected. “You told me the risks, and I still said screw the risks and went ahead anyways. If we’re gonna play the blame game, I’m just as much to blame as you are.” 

That got a smile out of Castiel, however small. 

“’Sides, I don’t regret it! Soon as we can get those flying ass-monkeys off our backs, we are going right back to–” 

“ _Details_!” Sam loudly interrupted, and Dean shut up on the matter. 

“Ah, anyways…” Dean refocused. “We were wondering if maybe we could pop over to your world and hide out for a while? The angels probably wouldn’t know where we were, and even if they did, it’d take ‘em a while to get the magic together to follow us, if they even can.” 

“Yeah, um…” I sighed. “About that. We’ve got a bit of a situation going on in my world currently.” 

“What kinda situation?” Dean asked suspiciously. 

“Remember that rental car from Atlanta?” 

Dean had to think for a moment, but he did recall it. “Yeah, I nearly forgot about that.” 

“…So did I,” I admitted. “It got found, and…they traced it back to the picture you all took with the rental guy. And now…you’re wanted by the police for car theft, violation of a rental contract, and possibly suspected kidnapping. There’s all this conflicting evidence and people don’t know what to make of it…it’s kind of a mess.” 

“…Great,” Dean sighed with the utmost sarcasm. “So even if we do go to your world, we’re still gonna have to lay low.” 

“I may actually have a solution for that. That’s why I was coming here in the first place…” Placing my palms together in front of me, I formally proposed, “How would you guys like to go on a vacation to Dominica with me?” 

“To Domi-what now?” Dean asked. 

“Dominica,” Castiel clarified. “A small island in the Atlantic Ocean. It’s incredibly remote and would serve as an excellent place to ‘lay low.’” 

“I’ve heard of Dominica before,” Sam chimed in. “But…isn’t it basically a developing country? Where would we stay?” 

“My roommate’s grandmother has a second home there,” I answered. “She said she’d let me stay there with some friends for free since they’re not renting it currently.” 

Now that that had been put out there, the three of them quietly contemplated. It was easily the best option for all of us, but I understood their need to think about unexpected travel plans. 

“Yeah, that seems like the best option on the table right now,” Sam decided. “At least we have enough warning to pack this time.” 

Plans in place, the three of them dispersed to their rooms to begin the packing process. I waited in the war room, swiveling around in one of the rolling chairs. Now that this was settling into place, I was starting to feel way more excited than stressed. I had another vacation with my friends to look forward to, and we were spending it in the tropical Caribbean no less! 

Back when I lived on a sailboat, my family had spent a lot of time in the northern Caribbean and I came to adore the environment there. People were friendly, fruit was tasty and plentiful, the climate was pleasantly warm, and the ocean was a constant presence wherever you went. I’d wanted to return there ever since I’d left, and this would be the perfect chance to do so. 

Just a few minutes later, my friends returned. Sam and Dean each carried a large duffel while Castiel held two smaller bags; I assumed they were for the Winchesters since he didn’t require much in the way of physical goods. 

Are we all set to go?” Dean asked. 

“Yeah, I just have to pack my stuff and get things set up with my roommate,” I confirmed. “If you guys are ready to make the jump, we should go on ahead. Aren’t those angels supposed to be back anytime now?” 

“Yes,” Castiel hurriedly affirmed. “We ought to leave as soon as possible.” 

"Alright then, let’s head out." 

Retrieving my phone from my pocket, I closed my apps and brought up the background I always used to get back home. It no longer showed an image of the outside of my house, but rather a picture I’d taken of the interior of my dorm room. 

“Grab on, guys,” I instructed, and all three slung their bags over their shoulders and put a hand on me. 

I reached a finger towards the image, focused on going home, and was instantly whooshed away from the bunker. 

When I opened my eyes, we indeed weren’t in the bunker anymore. But…we certainly weren’t in my dorm room either. 

“…What the _hell_?” Dean hissed out somewhere beside me.

That just about summed it up. Rather than appearing in my dorm, we were in some kind of empty, black space. There was nothing to see in any direction, just an endless black abyss. I could see Sam, Dean, and Castiel still standing around me clear as day even without any lights around to illuminate them, and just trying to figure out how that worked was giving me a headache.

My heartbeat went into overdrive as the surreality of the situation set in. Something went horribly wrong here; nothing even close to this had ever happened in all the time I’d been using my power.

I tried pushing my finger back onto the picture on my screen, but nothing happened. Wherever we were, we were stuck there.

“…Where are we?” Sam broke the tense, uncertain silence.

“I…don’t know,” Castiel replied.

If even Castiel didn’t know where we were, we were in big trouble.

“Congratulations,” said a dry voice behind us. “You’re in the center of your corner of the multiverse.”

All four of us spun around to see who it was. I wasn’t all that surprised to see my genie standing there, his arms crossed as he stared at us. My companions, on the other hand, bristled when he entered their line of sight. Castiel’s wings automatically rose into a defensive stance, blending with the darkness.

“Just when I thought we’d seen the last of you,” Dean gathered his confidence. “Good ol’ pinstripe McDouchey…face…” He trailed off, confident tone all but evaporating.

My genie raised an unamused eyebrow. “Good to see you’re just as terrible at on-the-spot insults as ever.”

“Yeah well, you’re terrible at…on-the-spot…insults…” Dean weakly countered, shrinking away somewhat.

“What did you do?” Sam leaped in, getting straight to the point.

“Hmm?” My genie hummed, distracted.

“Why did you bring us here?” Sam specified.

“Oh, that wasn’t me,” he innocently replied. “I’m just as stuck here as the rest of you.”

“Then who _did_?” Sam demanded.

Eyes lazily trailing to stare above us, my genie smacked his lips and replied, “They did.” 

When I turned away to see who “they” were, I was met with one of the single most bewildering sights of my entire life. Hovering behind us up in the air were…two massive cats. As in, sleek, furry, giant housecats that towered above us and stared downwards through slitted pupils. 

The one on the left was mostly transparent and filled with what I could only call stardust. It was predominantly purple in color with swaths of other pigments blended in, little glittering sparks and swirls moving under its skin. A thin, seemly tail protruded from its back, held high and proud as the creature silently judged us. 

The cat on the right was made of two differing halves. Its upper half was covered in long, white fur, while its bottom half was covered in what looked stained glass. Thousands of random fragments of every imaginable color shone along its belly and back legs, all the way to the tip of its large, fluffy tail that was playfully flitting about. 

All of us could only stare, utterly dumbfounded. We’d somehow just gone from fighting off a brigade of angels to being face-to-face with two giant, magical space cats. 

Sure, why not? 

“Client and her insane friends, meet my bosses,” my genie introduced. “Bosses, meet my client and her insane friends.” 

The cat on the right let out a squeaky “mew,” that echoed louder than any cat sound I’d ever heard. 

“Right, have to introduce you ladies by name,” my genie reminded himself. He gestured towards the galaxy-filled cat on the left. “This is Elle.” He then gestured towards the stained-glass cat on the right. “And this is Prism.” 

Prism grinned, clearly pleased. 

“Am I high?” Dean whispered, glancing frantically between us and the cats. “Are those two giant rainbow cats?” 

I was just about ready to ask the same questions, but my genie strode towards us before I could. 

“You all let me do the talking,” he muttered. “We’re all in trouble here, but I know how to speak to them better than any of you reckless knuckleheads. You let me do that, and I might just get them to let us off easy.” 

He stepped in front of our group without waiting for a response. Team Free Will looked at me as though I might have answers as to what was going on, but I didn’t. Did this have something to do with those “repercussions” my genie had mentioned? 

“So, Elle, Prism,” my genie greeted in an overly-sweet voice. “To what do we owe the pleasure of you summoning us here today?" 

Elle squinted down at him and growled a low note in her throat. 

“Right, I…I do already know exactly why you summoned us here,” my genie conceded. “Just trying to make friendly conversation.” 

“Mrowl,” Elle’s voice menacingly boomed around the black space. 

“Get to the point? Yes, well, I actually think there’s quite a lot of discussion to be had about this before we reach a verdict–” 

“Mrow,” Elle interrupted. 

“No, really, I have some great points that you should hear out before you go tossing around punishments will-nilly–” 

“Hey, giant cats,” Dean called out, disrupting the discussion. “Care to tell us what the hell is going on here?" 

Both of the felines’ eyes turned towards Dean then, more curious than threatening. My genie looked back at us, anger and desperation twisting his face as he helplessly watched us get involved. 

"Mew mew,” Prism chirped, almost appearing to laugh. 

“What’d she say?” Sam whispered to Castiel. 

“I can’t understand them,” Castiel replied, befuddled. “This is not just the language of cats, it’s…something otherworldly; even I don’t speak it.” 

“Oh, for god’s sake,” the genie angrily muttered to himself. “She said, ‘I like this one, he has spunk.’” 

Dean looked oddly flattered to have been complimented by a cat, but he refocused. “You didn’t answer my question,” he said in the toughest voice he could muster. 

The two cats looked at each other briefly. Elle turned her starry gaze back to Dean and vocalized, “Mrow rowl. 

“Translation?” Dean immediately turned to the genie. 

“She said, ‘You should already know what’s going on.’” 

“Well, I don’t!” Dean countered, growing frustrated. 

“Mew?” Prism said, question evident in her voice. 

By then, the genie had taken to automatically acting as translator. “’Didn’t your genie tell you?” He faltered then, hurriedly turning back to his bosses to explain himself. “I-I did tell them! Er, I told my client, at least. I assumed she would spread the word to the rest.” 

“Mrowl?” Elle challenged. 

“I _may_ have been somewhat nonspecific and cryptic like I sometimes can be, yes,” the genie admitted. “But I told her where to go to find out about the situation! You did do that, didn’t you?” He glanced hopefully at me. 

Swallowing down my fear, I stuttered, “Y-yeah, I did. This is about how we got caught on camera and…and how people are freaking out over the conflicting evidence, right?” 

Elle nodded her head once, sending the galaxies under her skin swirling about. “Mrow row, rowl owl.” 

My genie translated again. “She says, ‘Your actions have threatened the sanctity of the multiverse, and that cannot be allowed.’ See, I told you,” he added smugly. 

“We haven’t threatened anything,” Dean insisted 

“Mewl mew,” Prism calmly countered. 

“’People in your friend’s world already suspect a multiversal anomaly,’” translated the genie. 

“But…but those are just people on internet forums,” I worked up the courage to defend myself. “No one really thinks that’s what happened, they’re just messing around.” 

“Mrowl mrow,” Elle meowed firmly. 

“’It’s still a risk we can’t take. Multiversal security has been breached by less in the past.’” 

“Alright, so maybe we messed up,” Sam joined the conversation, stepping forward to stand beside his brother. “What are you planning to do about it?" 

“Row, rowl mrow,” Elle rumbled. 

My genie seemed hesitant to translate this one, but he did anyways. “’Punishment…for everyone involved.’” 

“Mewl,” Prism said, looking straight at the genie. 

“Yes, I know that means me too,” the genie replied, looking utterly defeated. 

“What kind of punishment?” Sam dared to ask, apparently unintimidated by the creatures before him. 

“Mrow row, row owl,” Elle said. 

“She’s going to nullify [Y/N]’s wish to confine her and you three to your own worlds,” the genie explained. 

“What?” I exclaimed on impulse. 

“And as for me, they’re going to shut down the business I’ve built my life around,” he added bitterly. “You may have no sympathy for me, but if that happens, every last wish I’ve ever granted for someone will come undone. Surely that prods something in your human morality." 

It really did. Though some part of me would undoubtedly enjoy seeing my genie get his just desserts, I certainly didn’t want that if it meant all the people who’d actually been helped by his business would lose what they most needed. 

Unsure what to do, I desperately cried out to the cats, “You can’t do that!” 

Both otherworldly felines turned their gazes towards me. They didn’t make a peep, and I assumed they were waiting for me to elaborate. 

“Listen, my–my wish,” I faltered somewhat under their watchful eyes, but forced myself to keep going. “It’s done nothing but good, I promise. This is the one consistently good thing in my life right now, you can’t take that away. I…I need this.” 

Considering this for a moment, Prism meowed, “Mewl mew ew.” 

My genie smirked. “She says, ‘That sounds kind of selfish to me. Not a good reason to let you keep your wish intact.’” 

Quaking internally, I raised a shaky hand towards Sam, Dean, and Castiel. “It’s helped them too. It’s not just about me.” 

“Rowl owl,” Elle commented. 

“’If it is something that’s good only for the four of you, that just makes it a sensible punishment.’” 

I knew she was right, but I couldn’t give up. After everything we’d been through, we couldn’t possibly give this up now, not in front of two massive space cats. 

Gah, when did my life get so weird? 

“What if…” my brain pieced together something vague but promising. “What if we could prove to you that taking away my wish would do more harm than good? That it can help people outside of just us?” 

The cats tilted their heads inquisitively at me, silently urging me to elaborate. 

“I know we got a bit careless and messed up,” I admitted. “But it’s not as bad as it could have been, and…I think we deserve a chance to show that we don’t deserve that punishment. Please…” 

Elle and Prism seemed to be seriously considering this. I was counting on them being more reasonable than my genie had been, and judging by what I’d gathered of their characters thus far, I was certain we’d have a shot at pulling this off. 

“Mrowl,” Elle finally broke the tense, pondering silence. “Mrow rowl row.” 

Though his face twisted in genuine surprise, my genie translated, “She…said…’Very well, we’ll give you an opportunity. Prove your wish can make a positive difference of a large enough scale and your punishment will be erased.’” He paused, turning back to his bosses and venturing, “Could I perchance get a shot at redemption as well?” 

The felines’ unrelenting glares said everything, and he sheepishly turned away without another word. 

“Thank you so much,” I gushed at the cats. “You won’t regret this, w-we’ll find a way to show you how much of a difference this wish can make, I promise.” 

“Mrowl,” Elle said. 

“She’s giving you one day to prove your case,” explained the genie. 

“One day?” Dean repeated in disbelief. “I’m sorry, that’s not enough. Give us…a month, maybe?” 

“Mrow,” Elle countered. 

“She says, ‘Three days.’” 

“Two weeks,” Dean retorted. 

“Row.” 

“’One week.’” 

A week and a half!” Dean insisted. 

Elle squinted at Dean for several long moments. “Rowl,” she finally said in a low voice. 

Though somewhat surprised by the turn of events, the genie supplied, “She says that’s okay. A week a half.” 

_Thank goodness for Dean’s excellent bargaining skills._

“Ewl ew,” Prism mewed. 

“She wants you to know that if you cause any more multiversal anomalies, the deal’s off,” the genie helpfully explained. 

Nodding my head, I mumbled, “That’s fair…” 

“Mrooowl,” Elle drawled. 

“’And until you prove it’s worthy of keeping intact, your wish will be suspended.’” 

My voice turned even quieter when I repeated, “Yeah, that’s fair too…” 

“Mew!” Prism chirped, smiling and baring little fangs. 

Eyes widening, my genie spun around to face his bosses in disbelief. “That’s it? You’re just…letting them go on their merry little way?” 

Both felines nodded, Elle calmly bowing her head and Prism energetically bobbing hers. 

“But…but…surely that goes against _some_ aspect of protocol.” 

“Mewl,” Prism sharply replied. 

"Yes, I know that _you’re_ the ones who decide what protocol is in the first place, but you’re seriously giving them a free pass?” 

Neither of them dignified him with an answer, leaving him to flounder as he helplessly looked between us and his bosses. 

Gathering himself somewhat, my genie steadied his voice. “So…since they’re being given the oh-so-gracious chance to go free until they prove they don’t deserve punishment, shouldn’t I also-” 

Elle’s tail gave an audible flick, and in an instant, a cage ensnared the genie out of thin air. Made of thick bars on all sides, it looked like it was formed of the same sort of space material that swirled about freely in Elle’s body. 

Once he’d recovered from the shock, my genie pressed on the space bars to no avail. He clenched his fists as he tried to concentrate on something- magic, I assumed -but nothing happened. Finally, he tore off his shades and threw them to the bottom of his cage in a rage. 

Prism turned back to our group. “Mew mewl, mew.” 

Silence hung in the air as we wondered what the heck she was saying. Elle broke through that with a throaty growl in the direction of the genie’s cage. 

“Alright, I’ll translate!” he conceded, refusing to meet anyone’s eyes. “She said, ‘Good luck. I have high hopes for you four.’” He barked a cruel laugh and brought his piercing eyes up towards us. “I for one don’t have any hopes for you. Don’t know how you’re going to prove that wish is worthy. It’s a selfish one if I’ve ever heard of it.” 

He narrowed his eyes specifically to me. “And when you leave me here to rot in this cage, after every risk and exception I’ve made for you, I want you to think of how you ruined all the lives I’ve worked tirelessly to better in my career. You are so far out of your element that it’s actually making me pity you. So yeah… _good. Luck._ ” 

Caught under his sneering gaze, I almost didn’t notice Prism swish her large tail. The sound of tinkling glass filled my ears as her colorful facets moved through the air, and in less time than it took to blink, we were back in my dorm room. 

The shock of being surrounded by a physical space with shape and color sent me stumbling backwards, thankfully into the cheap but sufficient mattress of my dorm’s bed. Sam, Dean, and Castiel were all with me, looking just as shaken. Even Castiel’s feathers, which had blended so well with the blackness of where we’d just been that I could barely see them, were standing on end after the encounter. 

Unsure what else to do or say, I shakily slipped my phone out of my pocket and dialed my roommate. “Hey roomie, uh…I…I’d like to take you up on that Dominica offer now.”  
She was thrilled that I’d decided to go through with it after all. She’d already told her grandmother about the offer, and of course the older woman had agreed that it was all fine and dandy; as long as we didn’t break anything, that is. 

There were very specific instructions included in our brief phone call. The house we would be staying at was called Villa Florapassa, located on the north end of the little island. A caretaker would be present to look after the house, as one always was whenever her grandmother wasn’t around. The caretaker would be the one to pick us up from the airport and would also look after us as typical villa guests. He’d be expecting us by tomorrow afternoon, which only gave us a short window to get over there, but it should be enough. 

Dean happened to overhear the single word “airport” over my phone’s speaker, and he took his first chance to comment as soon as the phone fell from my ear. 

“Okay listen, you already dragged us on a crazy series of flights before,” he rushed to get out his grievances, “and I am _not_ going through all that again. Four airplane trips in the span of a year is already too much, and if I have to go on any more than that–” 

“I should just be able to teleport us this time,” Castiel interrupted. “Seeing as there’s no magic-tracking genie involved. I sincerely doubt the angels would be able to sense my grace between worlds.” 

“Oh…” I absorbed this new information. “So, no flying for us. That’ll make traveling way easier.” 

“I don’t think we can just…appear in Dominica, though,” Sam pointed out. “She said the caretaker would be expecting us tomorrow afternoon, probably whenever a flight comes in." 

“We’ll just have to plan our teleporting, then,” Dean countered. “Think you can handle that, Cas?” 

Castiel squinted. “You know that I can, Dean.” 

“Yeah, I do, I’m just messin’ with ya.” The hunter slung an arm around Castiel’s shoulders to pull him towards his side, and though the angel kept up a grumpy pretense over his abilities being doubted, he let Dean maneuver him freely. 

Sam and I huddled around my desk to look at flight times on our laptop. If we were going to make it seem like we’d come in on a plane, we’d have to research the flight paths people typically took to Dominica. We found that from where my college was located, we could take a plane to San Juan, Puerto Rico before the day was out. Although we would have to spend a night on the island, at noon the next day we could take a small plane into Dominica that would arrive around 2:00. 

“Is that the fake travel path we’re going with?” I asked Sam as he gave the information a once-over. 

“It’s probably the best one for getting there by tomorrow afternoon,” Sam confirmed. 

“So we just have to pretend that we’ve been in Puerto Rico when we arrive?” 

“Or we could _actually_ go to Puerto Rico. Nothing’s stopping us from teleporting there and spending the night if we wanted. It’d give us a head start on laying low.” 

Sam was completely right. Even with all the other responsibilities on our shoulders right then, this was still a vacation, right? Why shouldn’t we drop in on another island to get in the Caribbean spirit? 

“Everyone cool with going to Puerto Rico tonight?” I asked the room. 

Dean and Castiel had been passing the time by looking through the contents on my half of the dorm. The former was presently flipping through one of my textbooks, scrunching up his face at its contents. 

"They really make you read this crap?” Dean mumbled. He glanced up when he realized I’d asked him something and offhandedly replied, “Oh yeah, sure.” 

Castiel joined us at the desk. “Teleporting directly into Puerto Rico should be no problem. When would you like to depart?” 

“I gotta pack first!” I said, leaping up from my chair and opening my closet. I glanced back at my companions while I pulled down my travel bag from its shelf. “You guys brought money, right?” 

Everyone proceeded to pat their pockets to check, and they nodded affirmatively. 

“Good,” I breathed a sigh of relief. “’Cause, uh…I have some money I’ve been saving up over the semesters, but it’s not gonna be enough for all of us. I’m only a college student, heh…” 

While everyone continued snooping through my belongings, I packed up as many clothes as I thought I’d need, including a bathing suit, as well as toiletries and basic supplies. My bag was barely even full by the time I was done…maybe I had learned a thing or two about packing light since our last trip. 

Sliding my packed bag up and over my shoulder, I checked, “Are we ready to go, then?” 

Everyone turned away from what they’d been doing. Dean dropped the book he was squinting at, Castiel returned from rifling through the medicine cabinet in the bathroom, and Sam closed my laptop. Each of them gathered their belongings and looked ready to go. 

Steadying my bag over my shoulder, I joined them in the center of the dorm. “To Puerto Rico we go.” 

Placing an arm around the Winchesters and a hand on top of my head like he always did, Castiel teleported us out of my room. Swaying under the whooshing sensation, I found my footing again just a moment later when we reappeared in totally different surroundings. 

The first thing I noticed was the salty taste in the air. The next thing I noticed was how incredibly warm and humid everything felt, followed by catching the sound of a distant rumble that could only be the ocean. 

Castiel had touched down in the middle of a sidewalk in a quiet urban setting. Restaurants and small, touristy shops were lined up along the street, and every few buildings there was one labelled “Condado” this or “Condado” that. I wasn’t fluent in Spanish, but I’d taken some last semester and I suspected the word referred to the neighborhood we were in. 

Come to think of it, most of the buildings in sight were labelled in Spanish. 

Something else occurred to me then that probably would have been good to ask earlier. “Um…do any of you guys speak Spanish?” 

“I understand all languages,” Castiel reminded me. 

“That’s right…good. I took a Spanish class last semester, but I am by no means fluent.” 

It was already dark in San Juan when we arrived. Practically no one was out at that time save for a handful of tourists, and as the quiet darkness washed over me, all my exhaustion came crashing down at once. Between completing finals, being held hostage by angels, and meeting my genie’s feline bosses, I think I was due for some sleep. 

“We should probably look for a hotel,” Sam voiced my exact thoughts. 

“I’ll read the signs and find one for us,” Castiel volunteered, setting off down the sidewalk and surveying the signs on each establishment. 

The rest of us followed after him, taking in the sights. We were in a tucked-away corner of San Juan practically made for tourists. As we walked, I caught glimpses of the beach between the hotel towers and clustered stores. Though I longed to gravitate towards the ocean, I forced myself to walk straight ahead. 

Castiel turned down a darkened side street at some point, and though wary, we followed him since he seemed to know where he was going. The angel guided us down a narrow, one-way street towards a quaint apartment-like structure on the roadside. 

“This should suffice,” Castiel intoned as we caught up to him. “The rates they’ve posted in their window are the most reasonable, and I sense no negative energies emanating from it.” 

“You heard the angel,” Dean said as he climbed the steps to the building’s open front door. “Let’s go.” 

He seemed just as eager to get some rest as I was. I followed him into the building and was hit with a blast of air conditioning upon stepping through the doorway. Dean was waiting for us by the check-in counter, where a woman was typing away at a computer. 

Smirking confidently, Dean held up a finger towards us and mouthed, “I got this.” 

Somewhere off to my left, Sam breathed the sigh of a long-suffering younger brother and settled in to watch whatever unfolded. 

“Perdon,” Dean greeted as he leaned across the counter. 

The woman abandoned her computer to look up at Dean, waiting to see what he wanted. 

“Yo quiero…” Dean trailed off, visibly struggling to think of the words. “Tres…camas!” He snapped his fingers as he recalled the word for bed. “Por uno…noche. Por favor.” 

“I speak English,” the woman patiently informed him. “Most people here are bilingual.” 

Immediately flushing from shame, Dean hid part of his face under his hand and muttered, “Right, uh…three beds for one night, please.” 

I held back my laughter up until Dean rejoined our group with a room key in hand. We piled into the cramped, old elevator, and the second its doors slid shut, I burst into giggles. 

Glaring disapprovingly at me, Dean just crossed his arms. “Just wanted to practice my Spanish.” 

“No, you were just trying to show off,” Sam corrected him. “You took like, a week of Spanish in tenth grade.” 

“But I still remembered the word for bed!” he triumphantly retorted as the elevator opened to our floor. 

Striding ahead before anyone else could question his linguistic prowess, Dean located our room and fit the key in the lock. The door swung open to reveal a decently-sized hotel room, with two single beds in the middle and a doorway leading to a room with a double bed. 

“I’m beat,” Dean announced, heading for the separate room. “Cas, you comin’?” 

“Of course,” Castiel replied, trailing after Dean towards the double bed. 

After all this time, the casual air of Dean and Castiel’s relationship was a little surreal. For all the awkward fumblings and unspoken routines that had been present during the entirety of our Alaska trip, now everything about the two of them being together just… _was_. The pair shared a room and bed every night, and that was that. 

“Hey guys,” Sam called after them. “Don’t, uh…you know.” 

“We’re not gonna,” Dean defiantly assured. “We’re not stupid, that could bring the angels right to us, other world or not.” 

“That didn’t stop you the first time,” Sam muttered. 

If Dean heard him, he ignored it as he closed the door behind him and his boyfriend. 

Sighing as he dropped his bag beside one of the remaining beds, Sam told me, “I think I’m gonna go to bed too. It’s been a hell of a day.” 

“Same,” I agreed as I crawled into the last bed. “Maybe…maybe if we have enough time, we can look around San Juan tomorrow.” 

“We don’t have to be in Dominica until 2:00, so we probably will.” Sam flipped a switch on the lamp beside his bed, cloaking the room in shadows. “G’night.” 

“Yeah…good night.” 

As tired as I was, I didn’t expect to get good sleep that night. How could I with everything that had just happened? 

We were far away from the ruckus caused by the investigation in Atlanta, but that was only one unsteady comfort surrounded by a storm of discomforts. Not only were we a target for angelic wrath, but now we were also tasked by two multiversal beings with proving that my wish, the one thing keeping me afloat, was worth keeping. How was I supposed to make a wish that had initially only been made for my benefit into something that could leave a large, positive impact? Especially when my power had been stripped from me in the meantime? 

As my mind procured and discarded idea after idea long into the night, all the while staving off surging paranoia, I drifted off. I really did need a vacation. And who knows? Maybe going to another country would provide just the combination of inspiration and resources we needed to solve this conundrum. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FZUcpVmEHuk


	2. In which you have a love affair with the ocean, Dean is inappropriate, Cas is a living fan, and Sam is awake too early to be human

_5/24/18_

Tropical sun streamed in through the windows of our hotel room, pleasantly warming the blankets that covered me. Though I’d had a restless night, I took my time to sleep in to make up for it as best I could.

When I did finally drag myself out from under the sheets, the blinking bedside clock greeted me with the digital numbers 11:03. If I did want to spend any significant time in San Juan, I needed to get up and about now.

Changing into fresh clothes in our room’s bathroom, I freshened up and readied myself for the day ahead. Sam wasn’t anywhere to be seen, but it was to be assumed that he was already out doing his Sammy thing like he always did on early mornings.

Taking a chance, I quietly turned the handle on the door to Dean and Castiel’s room, creaking it open to peer inside. Two figures were loosely bundled together on the bed. One of them tilted its head up to look at me, and I froze.

“[Y/N]?” Castiel’s grumbly voice called. “Do you require assistance with something?”

“N-no,” I managed, shrinking out of the doorframe. “I, uh…just wanted to see if you were awake.”

“Technically, I’m always awake,” Castiel replied matter-of-factly.

“And now _I’m_ awake,” Dean grumbled as he shifted under the blankets. “Wha’ time is it?”

“Just past eleven,” I told him.

“Mmrf,” he said into a pillow. “Fine, we’ll get up.”

Satisfied that I wouldn’t be alone for the morning, I wordlessly shut the door and retreated back into the main room. It only took Dean and Castiel a few minutes to emerge from their room, the former dressed in new clothes and still looking vaguely sleepy.

Dean’s first concern was, “They got any grub around here?”

“I saw a sign for a complimentary breakfast downstairs,” Castiel offered.

“What are we doing standing around here, then? Free food!”

Wholeheartedly in agreement, I followed the two of them out of the room, down the hall, and back to the lobby. Just as Castiel had said, there was a sign beside a doorway labelled, “desyauno complimentario.”

For what it was worth, it was a small but sufficient breakfast bar. I just claimed a glass of milk and a mini box of Pops cereal from the offerings, setting my stuff down at a table in the corner. There were a few other hotel patrons wandering about, a few of them speaking in Spanish. I listened in for a while to see how much I could understand, but gave it a rest when Dean and Castiel seated themselves across from me.

I busied myself with trying to open my stubborn cereal bag. The tough plastic refused to give under the pull of my fingers, but I kept at it, casually listening to my tablemates’ conversation.

“You sure you don’t want anything to eat, Cas?” Dean asked.

“I might be convinced to sample one of the fruits,” Castiel conceded, glancing towards the fruit basket at the edge of the breakfast counter.

“Have at it,” Dean encouraged. “Just don’t eat one of the bananas. If we’re gonna have to act all pure while we’re here, you are _not_ allowed to eat any bananas.”

“Why?”

I tugged a little more on the unrelenting cereal bag, willing myself to block out the conversation I knew was about to happen.

“Quick lesson in human 101,” Dean began, assuming a business-like pose. “Humans think bananas are hilarious. Because one, they look like they’re smiling all the time, and two, they kinda look like…something else.”

I glimpsed Castiel staring back at Dean with confusion and caught the exact moment he figured it out.

Frowning in vague disapproval, Castiel murmured, “Humans can turn anything into an innuendo if they try hard enough.”

“Sure can. Like for example, what you just said, I could make that into something–”

The bag of cereal chose that moment to finally tear open, sending bits of Pops erupting in a cascade over and around our table. The few other people in the room turned to look at the scene in alarm, and I shrank back into my seat.

Looks like Pops really lived up to their name.

Clearing my throat, I set aside my spent cereal bag and whispered to my friends, “Guys, I’m really happy that you’re together. Like, _really_ happy, you can’t even imagine. But please…this is the breakfast table.”

Both of them just nodded their heads, looking away like two scolded preschoolers. Dean reached to drink from his glass of orange juice, saw that one of the cereals had landed in it, and promptly set it aside.

After we’d gathered up the sticky pieces of corn pops from the floor and table, we left the hotel for the time being. Still itching to reunite with the ocean, I took the lead and followed the sound of the crashing waves and sea breezes.

They led me right to the water’s edge. I hadn’t glimpsed the beauty of the bright blue Caribbean Sea in so many years, and I found myself leaning down to let the tide wash over my fingertips as it advanced along the sand.

The beach itself wasn’t the most impressive I’d ever seen. It was what I called a “tourist beach,” meaning that it was ringed by resorts, condos, and seaside hotels. Compared to the natural beaches I’d travelled in the past, this was commercialized, with reclining chairs and umbrellas set up as far as the eye could see. Beachcombing was a fruitless activity here; other people would have likely already stripped the shoreline bare of any and all oceanic treasures.

Still, it was the closest I’d been to the tropical ocean in such a long time, and I found myself not caring that much about the beach’s quality. So long as I was by the ocean, I was happy.

“I was wondering when you sleepyheads were gonna get up,” said a familiar voice.

Sam was advancing along the waterline, his shoes dangling from his hand as he waded in the shallow tide. He looked like he’d been comfortably awake for quite a while, though it was a little hard to tell because his eyes were hidden behind a cheap pair of sunglasses.

“Found them at a store down the road,” he explained before anyone could comment on his eyewear. “Don’t worry, I got you a pair too,” he added as he procured a duplicate pair from his pocket.

Dean gladly took the offered sunglasses, immediately slipping them onto his face. “Nice, thanks Sammy. Now we’re _really_ on vacation.”

The next hour or so was spent strolling the shoreline. As I expected, there wasn’t much of anything in the way of shells or artifacts to be found, but the closeness of the swells and sand under my feet was treasure enough for me.

Partway down the beach, I looked back to check on my companions. It was past noon by then, and the sun was high in the sky. Castiel’s wings were fanned out slightly more than usual as he walked, their shiny blue feathers loose in the wind. They must’ve been adapting to the climate, I realized, and I spared a thought for my other friends.

Upon looking at the brothers more closely, I saw that both Sam and Dean were sweating something awful under all those layers they wore everywhere…

“Guys, you might want to abandon your layering technique for now,” I advised. “It might serve you well in the US, but down here it won’t do you much good.”

They both glanced at me in surprise, but quickly decided it would be for the best if they shed some layers. They ended up having to carry around a jacket and overshirt each, but they looked much more comfortable afterwards.

At the end of the beach we turned around and made our way back towards where we’d started. It only hit me when we had a full view of the shoreline just how…empty it was. Typically, tourist beaches were packed, especially at this hour.

“Where is everybody?” Dean wondered.

“I was just thinking the same thing…” I concurred.

No one had an answer, leaving us all with a sense of unease. There weren’t any sinister vibes around, just a sense that something was…off.

That sense remained all the way up to when we left the beach and returned to the road. Now that it was daylight out and I had the mind to think about it, even the streets were relatively quiet. A few people passed by on the sidewalks, and some cars would pass every once in a while, but this didn’t seem like the norm for any tourist town. It was nearly summer…surely this would be around the peak of the tourism season?

My eyes happened to land on a fluttering blue tarp beneath a pile of rubble in an alley, and images of news broadcasts flashed behind my eyes with new meaning.

“Oh god…” I breathed out, and everyone turned back to look at me. “The hurricanes. That’s why no one’s here.”

I expected one of my companions to make some affirming remark, but no one did. Looking at them expectantly, I saw that they all wore confused expressions.

“Hurricanes?” Sam finally asked. “What hurricanes?”

“The string of them last year,” I clarified, willing him to remember. “The Caribbean got hit hard. I…I completely forgot.” 

Guilt prodded at my stomach. How could I have possibly forgotten? Most of the news coverage in the US had been centered on Harvey and Irma, sure, but I always made it a point to keep track of storms during hurricane season. I’d seen firsthand what a hurricane could do a community; I’d been only five when hurricane Katrina tore through the coastline where much of my family lived, and the aftermath still shook me to this day…

“I…don’t remember any hurricanes,” Sam apologetically replied. “I think the pattern of natural disasters is different in our world, since we’ve had a few apocalypses to throw it off balance. Plus…isn’t your world a few years ahead of ours?”

“Right…” I shook my head. “Of course you wouldn’t know. Well, to sum it up, we had a nasty hurricane season last year. Puerto Rico was in bad shape…a lot of places were.”

“Looks like things are alright here,” Dean observed. "Other than bein' empty."

He was right. Just by looking at San Juan, you’d have no clue a hurricane had come through. In the months following the disaster, relief efforts must have been strongly focused here in an effort to bounce back the tourism industry; after all, this was the first place most people saw when they arrived here…I hated to think of what shape the unrestored places outside the city were in.

Still, it had been months since the disaster. Surely they had the resources to continue relief efforts where they were most needed?

Shame-inducing as it felt, I didn’t want to stick around to find out. “How long until we need to be in Dominica?”

Sam checked his phone. “We’ve got…about fifteen minutes.”

“Alright…let’s gather our stuff and get ready, then.”

Upon returning to our hotel room, we packed up what little we’d taken from our bags and checked out. Dean spoke to the lady behind the counter again…this time in English. After everything was settled, we went back out on the streets, carrying our bags under the hot tropical sun.

“It’s 2:04,” Sam announced from his phone. “If we’re gonna go to Dominica, the time is now.”

Looking around to ensure no one was around to witness it, Castiel stepped behind us to get in position for teleporting.

“Uh, Cas, wait,” I stopped him, something only then occurring to me. “You can’t just…make us appear there wherever. The caretaker will be waiting for us at the airport, and since it’s a different country, we’ll have to get around immigration and customs…”

“What if he teleports us into an airport bathroom?” Dean suggested. “Then we can just step out like we own the place and nobody’ll be any the wiser.”

“That would work,” Sam agreed. “You can do that, right Cas?”

“You two really shouldn’t doubt my teleportation capabilities,” Castiel intoned, moving forward to grab ahold of us all.

With a whoosh of wings and a wave of momentary vertigo, we were inside what looked like a tiny bathroom. It looked more like what I would have expected of a restroom in the back of a hole-in-the-wall restaurant than one in an airport, but I had to remind myself of where we were.

I took a few explorative steps around the bathroom and immediately noticed the urinals on the back wall.

“Uh, guys?” I reached for their attention. “I can’t be in here. Or at least, I can’t be seen walking out of here. Since we’re trying not to draw a lot of attention…”

“Here,” Castiel said as he stepped forward and placed a hand on my head.

A much shorter lapse of vertigo hit me, and I ended up in another bathroom. This one was entirely empty and devoid of any urinals, so I figured it was the women’s bathroom.

Creeping up next to the exit door, I pressed my ear to the wall and listened. I wanted to wait until the others had already left so I could be more inconspicuous.

Waiting until I heard a door open to my right and a few sets of footsteps walking away, I gathered my courage and opened the door as nonchalantly as I could. I was then faced with the quaintest airport I’d ever set foot in.

Immigrations, customs, and the baggage claim area (which might I add consisted of a single little luggage carousel in the corner) all fit into one comparatively small room. Passengers from a recently-arrived flight were progressing through each station, filling out papers, gathering their luggage, and speaking with customs. We’d arrived just in time…

Though it was small, it was incredibly endearing. I actually found myself preferring it to the endless bustle of airports in the US.

Fearing that I might be noticed if I lingered too long, I casually walked towards the exit. Thankfully, I was already behind the customs counter, so I didn’t have to figure out how to get around that. A tiny thrill went through me when I realized that I had essentially just illegally smuggled myself into a foreign country.

Outside I was greeted by a rush of hot, salty air. The further outside the building I walked, the more amazed I was by how small it was. This had to be the smallest airport I’d ever seen in my life; if you didn’t count the single runway behind its barbed fence, the entire thing was smaller than my elementary school.

I caught sight of Sam, Dean, and Castiel waiting for me under a sheltered sidewalk built into the side of the building. I waved and regrouped with them, still trying to take in everything around us.

“Where’s this caretaker?” Dean asked, holding up a hand to shade his eyes and squinting around the sunlit complex.

“Is that him?” Castiel asked, nodding towards a man further down the path.

The man was holding up a makeshift sign that read at length, “Annalise’s granddaughter’s roommate and friends.”

Annalise…I was almost certain that was the name of my roommate’s grandmother. I’d heard her mention it a few times over the course of the semesters when she talked about her family.

“That’s our guy,” I confirmed.

As we walked towards the man, I got a better look at him. He looked like a local, with dark, sunbeaten skin and a young, strong face. He wore a striped tank top and khaki shorts, looking around aimlessly as he waited for us to arrive.

Once we were close enough, he figured out we were honing in on him and watched us inquisitively. Even when we were right in front of him, he didn’t say anything, instead looking us up and down in vague confusion.

“You’re the guests staying at Villa Florapassa?” he asked, Caribbean accent strong in his voice.

“That’s us,” Dean confirmed with a friendly grin.

“…I was expecting a band of teenage college girls,” the caretaker admitted with a shake of his head. “I can’t decide if this is better or worse.”

He extended a hand towards me, and I reached up to shake it. “I’m Silvan Fontaine,” he introduced. “I’m the caretaker at the Villa.”

“I’m [Y/N],” I replied, beaming up at him.

“Sam,” Sam introduced when Silvan shook his hand.

Dean took Silvan’s next handshake. “Name’s Dean. Sam here’s my little brother.”

“Little?” Silvan huffed a laugh. “He looks pretty tall to me.”

One of the most pleased looks I’d ever seen on Sam crossed his face. “Oh, I like this guy,” he gleefully said to himself.

Silvan moved to the final member of our group, taking and shaking his hand. “And you are?”

“Castiel,” the angel formally replied. “I’m Dean’s partner.”

“Ah, like partner in crime sort of thing, or…?” Silvan glanced curiously between the two of them.

“Whether the acts we commit together are ‘crimes’ is up for debate,” Castiel replied, squinting. “Dean is my romantic partner, if that’s what you mean.”

Nodding, Silvan chuckled to himself. “That’s what I thought, I just had to be sure.” He turned around and commented, “Dominica does attract the most interesting people. Okay, let’s go.”

Following Silvan’s lead, we ended up crossing into a parking lot. We stopped by a gray, jeep-like car that I couldn’t quite place.

“Shotgun!” Dean called, rushing to the passenger side door before anyone else could beat him to it. He stopped short upon looking through the window. “What the…”

“Shotgun is the other side,” Silvan said. “In Dominica we drive on the left. We used to be an English colony, so we adopted their weird driving habits.”

Staring at the steering wheel a little longer, Dean shook himself and rounded the car, taking the left side seat instead.

Sam, Castiel, and me fit together in the backseat. I ended up scrunched in the middle seat since I was smallest, but it allowed me a good view out the front of the car so I didn’t mind. It was pretty disorienting to see the steering wheel on the right side of the car, even more so when Silvan started up the vehicle and began driving on the left side of the road.

The car pulled out of the airport and onto a road beside the sea. A seawall separated us from the crashing waves, plastered with faded advertisements for local businesses and events. As we pulled around the perimeter of the airport’s runway, Silvan slowed the car down to a crawl. I figured out why when we entered the next portion of road.

Calling it a “road” was being generous; it was more like a stretch of unpaved rocks. The jeep bounced and bobbed on its suspension as we inched across the stretch, each of us grappling to hold on as the terrain tossed us about.

“Please tell me this isn’t how all the roads are,” Sam pleaded.

“No, just this one,” Silvan assured. “This is probably the worst road in Dominica, and that’s saying a lot.”

Mercifully, the bumpiness ended shortly thereafter. The car pulled onto a short, one lane bridge and then onto a real road…although it was unlike any road I’d ever been on before.

It wasn’t just the fact that we were on the opposite side of the road as I was used to. Though it was paved, there were no lines or markings on the road to be seen. Lanes didn’t exist, and neither did speed limits if the sheer lack of road signs was any indicator.

The further we got into Dominica, the better I got a sense of the environment. Predominantly, it was a mountainous island with rough, hilly terrain and lush forests. I suspected some of the peaks I glimpsed out the car’s windows were volcanoes, though I assumed them to be dormant. There wasn’t a single inch of unpaved land that wasn’t green, and the parts that were paved were narrow and curved back and forth with the terrain. I really hoped none of my companions were prone to carsickness, or else we would be in trouble.

“I’m pretty big into cars,” Dean struck up a friendly conversation with the driver. “I noticed the extra mirror up there on the hood. What’s it for?”

Though it had completely escaped my awareness until then, I did see what Dean was talking about. A small, third mirror was attached to the outside of the car’s hood.

“It’s to help with dangerous turns,” Silvan replied. “Like this one; hold on.”

Out of nowhere, the car made a sharp, blind turn down the road, following a circular bend around a hill. Every one of us took a deep breath as we descended, only releasing it when the road straightened out somewhat.

“Newcomers’ reactions to that are the best!” Silvan cheered, laughing. “Might want to get used to that. That’s how most of the roads here are.”

Considering how suddenly it had been thrown at me, I got used to the crazy turns in the road pretty quick. In fact, I actually started to have fun with them, letting myself slide with momentum into either Sam or Castiel and thinking of it as a rollercoaster ride. We followed the coastline for a while, and I took in every view of the ocean I was offered. The gorgeous blue and foamy white that comprised it made me feel at home even thousands of miles away from my actual house.

One detail about the island did feel off: the greenery. Though low-laying foliage was in great supply, there were nowhere near as many trees as I’d been expecting. In fact, once I actually started looking for them, I noticed there were entire swaths of land that were entirely or mostly barren, only a few teetering palm trees standing among the grass and bushes.

I’d been on multiple Caribbean islands in the past, and I knew that wasn’t right.

“Where are all the trees?” I asked, staring at another treeless patch out the left window.

“Maria took them,” Silvan solemnly answered.

The others seemed perplexed by that response, and I was too…until I recalled last year’s news headlines again.

“Hurricane Maria?” I asked to make sure I understood what he meant.

“Yes,” Silvan confirmed. “Maria swept up a lot when she came through. It’s been eight months and we’re still feeling the consequences.”

My heart panged with sympathy. For all the countries I’d seen in the news following the series of hurricanes, Dominica hadn’t shown up once; I hadn’t even known the country existed until days ago. It didn’t even occur to me until then that the storms could’ve reached it as well.

Just then, I glimpsed the first signs of civilization. The car pulled into a rural village built onto the slope of a mountainside. Every building in sight was rather small, either made from concrete and painted in bright colors or built from cheap metal siding. Locals walked along the side of the street, stepping aside to make way for our car.

Stray dogs and goats trotted along the outskirts of the road, barely batting an eye at us as we went past. A few chickens pecked about at the ground in front of some of the houses. Some of the people stared at us as we passed them, and it only hit me then just how out of place we looked.

“Most of the people here don’t have electricity,” Silvan told us as we progressed deeper into the village. “A lot don’t have water. Some don’t have homes. The storm took a lot from us.”

Only then did I notice the power lines above us. Most of them dangled by a thread, their poles bent horribly out of shape, while others were severed entirely and lay in ditches on the roadside.

“Wait,” Dean impulsively wondered. “Does that mean our place doesn’t have water or electricity?”

In the rearview mirror, I caught a glimpse of some strong, unplaceable emotion on Silvan’s face. He didn’t meet Dean’s eyes when he curtly answered, “No, the Villa has water and power. It has solar energy and a backup generator.”

Only then did Dean realize maybe that wasn’t the most appropriate time to ask his question. “I…sorry, man, I didn’t mean–”

“It’s okay,” Silvan said, even though it sounded like it wasn’t. “It’s a fair question. You’re used to not worrying about that.”

No one spoke for a while after that. Hoping to escape the tension, I directed my gaze out the window overlooking the cliff edge. That was when I noticed a few gaps between the buildings. Concrete bases with some traces of rubble stood between otherwise untouched houses…my stomach lurched sickeningly when I realized they were empty foundations on the edge of a hundred-foot drop into the ocean.

The more I looked now, the more I saw scars left by the hurricane. Makeshift tents sat hidden behind half-collapsed buildings. Many homes were missing roofs or walls, and in their place blue tarps flapped in the breeze.

Even after we’d left the village and returned to the regular rollercoaster roads, I couldn’t shake this feeling of quiet devastation. All I could think of to do was admire the beauty of the Dominican landscape and appreciate what Maria had left untouched.

Several minutes later, we pulled into another village, this one slighter larger and right by the sea.

“Welcome to Calibishie,” Silvan announced. “This is where you’ll be staying.”

Calibishie had a slightly larger ratio of concrete houses to metal houses, most of them on flat land bordered by a beach. I couldn’t see light in any of the buildings’ windows, and the downed powerlines following the street confirmed there was no electricity.

The car pulled onto a bumpy street that branched off the main road. The buildings on this street were generally larger and more flamboyant in their presentation. At the very end, Silvan turned into a driveway shaded by plants and some trees. At the end of that…was the Villa.

The Villa left me speechless when I first saw it. Maybe it was just the shock of seeing such a large structure after driving through a village that screamed developing country, but all I could do was let my mouth hang agape as we parked by the front door.

The building was mostly made of concrete painted a lovely pastel yellow. Dark wooden decks protruded from the Villa’s second floor, and it was surrounded on all sides by extravagant tropical plants. Two Dobermans behind an electric fence viciously barked at us as we exited the car, all of us taking in the sight before us with wide eyes.

“Eve, Jack!” Silvan called to the two dogs. “Enough, I’ve got it, I’ve got it!”

The dogs settled down after that. I got a peek at them standing at attention in the side yard, glaring at us as we approached the house. They let their guard down and wagged their tails as Silvan took the lead.

“This is Villa Florapassa,” Silvan introduced as he stepped up to the front door, an ornate bronze gate. “Make yourself at home and go wherever you please; except for downstairs. That's where I sleep, and also where we keep the dogs.”

With the turn of a key, Silvan unlocked the gate and swung it open, beckoning us inside. I eagerly followed him. It turned out the Villa wasn’t so much a house as it was an open structure with a handful of rooms. The entire back of the building was open air and utterly exposed to the elements. A large kitchen that smelled of fruits and herbs was located on the first floor, and in front of that was a small wooden deck and a blue-tiled infinity pool overlooking the land below. A small bedroom was off to the side, and a hammock where I suspected I’d spend much of my time was suspended outside.

A staircase made of uneven wooden blocks ascended to the second floor, which was entirely a balcony. Another small bedroom sat off to the side up here, as did a study full of books, artifacts, and two single beds. The master bedroom was beside that, boasting the largest bed and best accommodations of anywhere in the house. Another steeper staircase led to a glass window with a latch that I assumed opened to the roof.

But the most spectacular thing about the Villa by far was the view. The entire open exterior overlooked the forest as it descended towards the beach, and just beyond that lay the ocean. I could see for miles outwards all the way to the blue horizon. White-crested waves coasted towards the shoreline below, playing a constant crescendo of rumbling sounds that could be heard everywhere in the house.

Besides the ocean, I could also see the far end of the island off to the side, curving around and mountainously extending into the clouds. A well-kept garden ringed the yard at the forest’s edge, made up of plants with green, yellow, orange, and magenta leaves. Some of them even bore fruit or complex, colorful flowers.

I spent several minutes just taking it all in. This place was basically dreamhouse quality, and I was stunned.

The sun was already beginning to wane towards the horizon when we arrived. As the skies gradually darkened, I stared out over the balcony, entranced by the ocean’s song and dance.

At some point Sam ended up beside me, leaning on the railing and taking in the view.

“This is…” Sam tried and failed to find the words. “Wow.”

“Yeah, wow is right,” Dean agreed as he joined us. “This is the kinda thing you see in the daydreams of a nine-to-fiver, not…not something that actually _exists_.”

“I’ve never been in a place like this before,” Castiel added as he approached. “I would have doubted that a place such as this could even exist on this island.”

“If the kitchen’s grub is any good, I’m sold,” Dean determined, pulling away from the railing to head downstairs.

We all ended up following him, curious about the food situation as well. None of us had had anything to eat since breakfast, and we were seriously overdue for a meal.

I walked into the spacious kitchen to find Dean raiding the pantry. He emerged from the closet empty-handed, shrugging at us.

“Can’t find anything,” he reported. “Nothing in the fridge aside from whole fruit, either. Already checked.”

“If you’re looking for a meal, you won’t find it here,” Silvan informed us as he entered the room. “The Villa hasn’t had guests in a long time, so we’re understocked. All we have is the fruit picked from the garden.”

“We haven’t eaten since breakfast,” Sam told him. “Where should we go to get a meal?”

“There’s a place just down the street called Poz. They have great Dominican food. It’s run by a local couple.”

Just as we were about to head out the door, spurred by our hunger, Silvan stopped us.

“You’ll have to convert your money to the local currency first. There’s an ATM by the grocery store in the village.”

It hadn’t even occurred to me that we might have to convert our cash when we got here. “What’s the local currency?” I asked, because I really was curious.

“EC,” Silvan replied.

“EC?” Dean asked in disbelief.

“Eastern Caribbean currency,” was the only response Silvan offered. He walked clean out of the room without another word then, probably off to take care of something in the house.

There was an obvious difference in the way Silvan was treating us now. Before, he’d been very lighthearted and polite, but now…he’d turned more distant and professional. I couldn’t help but wonder if that had something to do with Dean’s untimely question earlier, and I hoped it wouldn’t last forever.

Before we left, we each selected a room and left our stuff. I called dibs on the small bedroom on the second floor; it had arguably the best view of the ocean. Sam went a little wild and said he was going to take one of the single beds in the study; I suppose he slept better surrounded by books. Dean and Castiel both agreed that since it hadn’t been claimed, they would take the master bedroom on the second floor. That meant all of us were living in a neat little row on the balcony, and I couldn’t be happier with that arrangement.

Cash safely tucked away in our pockets, we left the Villa and walked out towards the road. It was getting dark by then, and without any streetlights to guide us, we knew we’d have to hurry if we didn’t want to get lost.

On our way down, we spotted Poz. It looked pretty humble all things considered, a small establishment surrounded by a tall wooden and cobblestone fence. Confident that we knew where it was, we proceeded out onto the main road, sticking close to the side in case any cars came tearing along. We didn’t have to walk very far to get into a busy section of Calibishie. Our path descended into a low-lying stretch neighboring the coastline and full of a healthy mix of homes and businesses.

A lot of locals were out and about that night, gathered together under pavilions and outside buildings socializing. Whenever we walked past a group, their conversation would lull as they curiously watched us from afar. It was incredibly obvious that we were foreigners, and I wasn’t sure how common a sight that was out here.

Thank goodness for my shortness in comparison to Team Free Will, because I was able to hide behind them while they received the bulk of the attention. Several people openly stared at them as they walked past; not antagonistically in the least, but rather just highly curious. The three of them were drawing a lot of attention, and to be fair that was mostly because they stuck out; being white certainly wasn’t the norm here.

And Castiel’s presence wasn’t helping at all, either. Seeing a man in full-on business attire just casually walking down the street of a hot tropical island was sure to turn some heads.

The ATM machine was placed right outside the humble grocery store just as Silvan said it would be. Each of us took turns inserting our money and using the conversion feature to obtain the equivalent EC. With our new money, we felt much more secure as we climbed the road back up to Poz.

Behind its fence, Poz was a tiny but lively restaurant. It was actually just a shack with a pavilion attached where people could sit and eat, but the property contained space for open seating further back and even a swimming pool. A loud generator gurgled and roared behind the scenes, providing just enough power to light the area.

We seated ourselves under the pavilion alongside a few other tables full of locals. An older local man was quick to swoop by our table and greet us.

“You’re some new faces!” he enthusiastically observed.

“Yeah, we’re staying in Villa Florapassa down the road,” Sam explained. “We just flew in this afternoon.”

“Ah, welcome, welcome,” he said cheerily. “I didn’t know Annalise was renting out the Villa. She hasn’t done that since Maria hit.”

“We’re not actually renting it,” I jumped in. “I’m friends with her granddaughter, she’s letting us stay there.”

“I see…” the man trailed off, lost in thought for a moment. He snapped back to attention with, “So, what are you all in the mood for tonight?”

For my part, I really wanted to sample some fresh fruit juice and seafood. I ended up with a full glass of passionfruit juice, which absolutely blew me away from the first taste. It was sweeter and fresher than any juice I could recall having in my life. I went a little extravagant for my main course, selecting a plate of rock lobster. It was as exquisite as I could have hoped for, showing up at the table in three steaming, speckled shells.

Sam went for seafood as well, trying a piece of Mahi Mahi, while Dean of course selected a burger.

“ _Wow_ , Dominica makes a mean burger,” Dean gushed around a mouthful of meat.

Though he didn’t need to eat anything, Castiel picked pieces of food off Dean’s plate, which Dean encouraged. Sharing food had become a bit of a habit for them, and since Castiel only took a little from his meals, Dean didn’t mind at all.

After paying and thanking the man for an excellent meal, we set off towards the Villa again. It was pitch black out by then, but we just kept careful watch of our footing and followed the roar of the ocean to guide us back.

The dogs, Eve and Jack, barked up a storm when we approached the Villa, and Silvan came to the door to check on what they’d seen. He relaxed when he saw it was just us, wordlessly nodding and retreating into the building.

Filled from a good dinner and expectant of the vacation that lay ahead of us, most everyone was ready to rest.

“I think we’re gonna call it a night,” Dean said, yawning.

“I was just thinking the same thing,” Sam agreed. “I wanna get up bright and early and take a jog down to the beach tomorrow.”

Dean snorted. “We’re on an island vacation, and you still wanna wake up at no man’s hour. I will never understand, Sammy.”

Ignoring his brother’s commentary, Sam gave us a single wave goodnight and went into the study, closing the door behind him.

“Aren’t you going to sleep, [Y/N]?” Castiel inquired, approaching me where I stood overlooking the balcony.

“Yeah,” I answered. “I just…wanna appreciate the view for a while, first.”

Nodding in understanding, Castiel left me be, following Dean into their shared bedroom and quietly shutting the door.

Left alone with my thoughts and the rumbling crashes of the ocean, I stared out into the distance. If I squinted, I could just barely make out the glittering lights of what I assumed to be a neighboring island across the sea. Maybe it was Guadalupe? I made a mental note to buff up on my Caribbean geography and let my thoughts wander as aimlessly as the salty breezes that blew through my hair.

As I pondered how lucky we were to have this opportunity, to be in such a lavish place surrounded by the climate I loved, my thoughts inevitably turned back to what I’d seen on the drive up. I glanced at the roof above my head and thought of the houses that lacked that same simple feature, glimpsed a light snuffing out in Sam’s room and wondered how people elsewhere were faring in total darkness. I felt the floor beneath my feet and had the horrible image of the Villa tumbling down the cliff towards the ocean like so many other homes had during the storm.

Here I was, a visitor to this island inhabiting a luxury home, while people who had lived and devoted their whole lives here didn’t even have a house to live in anymore.

I felt a little sick as the dissonance of that hit. I tried to reassure myself by saying that there wasn’t anything I could do about it, at least not tonight.

Below me, something creaked on the poolside deck. I glanced down just in time to catch Silvan peeking up at me, that same strong, unplaceable emotion on his face. He swiftly retreated underneath the balcony and I could no longer see him.

Shaking myself free of my looping thoughts, I pushed away from the railing and put the ocean behind me. Maybe I really did need to get to sleep…

Just as I was about to head off to my own room for the night, I heard voices from the master bedroom. I stopped and tip-toed closer, craning my ears to listen in.

What can I say? Old habits die hard.

“Mmmm Casssss,” Dean tiredly complained. “Normally, I love havin’ your wings around me, but it’s like, eighty-somethin’, maybe ninety-somethin’ degrees out there.”

Feathers and blankets shuffled about in the dark room. “I understand, Dean.”

Dean sighed in relief. “Thanks. Maybe if your wings were a bit cooler you could keep ‘em there, but I can’t sleep if I’m overheatin’. S’already hot enough here without that.”

“Is it too warm in here for you?”

“A lil’.”

“…I may have a way to fix that.”

“Please, by all means,” Dean encouraged, yawning.

The sounds of feathers returned, this time straightening out and rising as though they were preparing to fly. Then, there was a gentle whoosh, followed by another whoosh, and another. Intermingled with the windy sounds was the fluttering of flight feathers.

“Are you…?” Dean wondered in disbelief. “Are you _fanning_ me?”

“Yes,” Castiel confirmed, sounding rather pleased. “Wings are not only for warming, but for cooling as well. Is it helping?”

“A lot, yeah.” Covers smushed and shuffled together as Dean shifted further. “Gah, you are too good to me, angel…”

“Not nearly as good as you often deserve,” Castiel warmly replied.

“No no, don’t go talkin’ like that, now. You are just…the best. Still dunno how I got lucky enough to win you over.”

The conversation faded for a while, and all that could be heard was Castiel’s wing swishing through the air.

“You don’t have to keep that up all night,” Dean eventually mumbled. “Don’t want you gettin’ tuckered out.”

“Angel wings don’t tire easily,” Castiel responded. “But in the unlikely event that I do ‘tucker out,’ I’ll take a break.”

“Good…” Dean yawned, loud and relaxed. “G’night, angel.”

“Good night, human.”

Smiling uncontrollably, I relented and crossed the balcony to my room. It had been far too long since I’d overheard fluff from those two.

My chosen room was functional but more than large enough. It had a walk-in closet and a bathroom built in, as well as windows on every bit of wall space available. The windows in Villa Florapassa weren’t so much windows as ventilation ports; there was no glass covering them, rather, they were covered by adjustable wooden slats. Even inside the house, you were still connected to the natural outside world.

The bed in the center of the room was large, a double. It would be nice to spread out and have extra space for once, especially after sleeping on the uncomfortable mattress that came with my dorm room.

White bug nets were wound around the bedposts. I tugged them down and let them drape over the entirety of the bed, creating an impenetrable veil from any and all insects. Once I’d changed and brushed my teeth, I crawled under the bug net and made myself as comfy in the bed as I could. The constant sounds of the nearby ocean worked better than any white noise machine ever could, and I drifted off in minutes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Photo of San Juan belongs to me.
> 
> Photo of the Villa: http://464.ce9.myftpupload.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/11/planupverleft1.png
> 
> Fun fact, that second photo is of the actual Villa I based Florapassa on. It's like...the coolest. 10/10 would recommend if you ever get the lucky chance to visit Dominica.


	3. In which you practice conflict resolution, Dean starts a water war, Cas becomes a treasure hunter, and Sam’s wi-fi powers fail him

_~5/25/18~_

College had absolutely wrecked my sleep schedule. Between having an eight AM class twice a week and staying up until midnight most nights to finish homework, my nights lacked any semblance of consistency.

So when I woke up at 8:30 AM on the dot, I was more than a little surprised.

I hadn’t even realized it, but it got dark much earlier last night than I was used to. I must’ve gone to bed around 9:30, something I hadn’t been able to accomplish in months. Maybe Dominica’s day/night cycle might be what I needed to repair my ravaged sleep schedule.

Ten minutes after waking up, I emerged from my room freshened and ready to face the day. The first sight I saw was that lovely view of the ocean, and I decided right then that was how I wanted to start all my days.

To my surprise, Dean was up and about already as well, seated in a recliner on the balcony with his sunglasses and beachwear on.

“You’re up early,” he commented.

“So are you,” I retorted.

“If we’re awake at this hour, I hate to think when Sam got up,” Dean said with a chuckle.

“No kidding…” Glancing around the balcony, I asked, “Where’s Cas?”

“He’s downstairs stretching his wings like he always does.”

I peered over the edge of balcony to check, and sure enough, Castiel was standing on the deck spreading and waving his wings. Letting my lazy morning gaze wander, I found my eyes instinctively drawn back towards the eternal deep blue. Its magnetizing pull drew me towards it like the moon does the tide, and I couldn’t wait another second to immerse myself in the ocean’s waters again.

“Hey Dean, you wanna go down to the beach?” I asked over my shoulder.

“May as well,” he grunted, pulling himself out of his chair and clicking his shades shut. “Cas would probably like to come along too.”

“I’ll bet you anything Sam’s already down there jogging to his heart’s content,” I challenged.

“Nuh-uh,” Dean shut that down immediately. “I learned my lesson about making bets with you.”

I kinda figured that would be his response, so I let it go and led the way down the stairs.

It turned out that Castiel loved the idea of going down to the beach. The question was, how were we going to get down there?

“Hey, Silvan!” Dean called out when the caretaker emerged from downstairs. “Good morning.”

Silvan smiled politely at us, though he still had a distant air. “Good morning. You all look like you’re planning something.”

“We are, actually,” Dean said, taking a few steps closer to the caretaker. “We were thinking about heading down to the beach. What’s the best way to get there?”

Pointing out the front door, Silvan nodded towards the frontmost portion of the garden. “There’s a trail from that side of the Villa that will take you there. Your brother took that trail at the crack of dawn when I got up to walk the dogs.”

“Of course he did,” Dean breathed out. “Thanks, Silvan. We’ll see you later.”

Trying not to overthink the distance Silvan was keeping from us, I kept up with Dean and Castiel as they blazed towards and through the trail. It was a steep rocky path down the cliff face below the house. Waxy leaves batted at us and grass tickled at our ankles as we descended. 

Past the minimal forest cover, the trail opened up just above the ocean. Extending in front of us was a massive, rocky peninsula being assaulted by waves. My sense of adventure called me forwards as I set out to traverse the unsteady terrain, and though they hesitated a moment, I heard Dean and Castiel follow me.

Winds attacked us from every which way as we climbed and rocks slipped and slid under our feet. Just as I was starting to wonder whether coming down this way had been a good idea, I stumbled upon a marine goldmine: tidepools.

Situated under the shelter of the peninsula’s highest point was a span of clear, rocky pools. The sea rocked against the walls surrounding it, kicking up spray and spilling water over the lip, but the habitat remained safe and intact.

My marine biologist side felt giddy as I traversed over what I could find of dry ground towards the largest pool. Leaning down to peer into the crystal water, I spotted several schools of small ocean minnows, clusters of white anemones, and violet and maroon urchins tucked away in crevices. The entire body of water was teeming with life, and as the sea kicked up salty spray that landed in my hair, all I could do was close my eyes and appreciate where I was.

Castiel leaned down beside me, his wings sheltering me and part of the pool from the ocean’s reach. He seemed more invested in the spiraling snails and chitons that had gathered around the pool’s edge. He held out a finger to a snail with a pearly pink shell, and it willingly slithered up onto his skin and stayed there when he raised it up to eye level.

I was so focused on searching for further sea life in the tidepool that I jumped a little when Castiel said, “This snail is capable of holding incredibly intelligent conversation.”

Remembering that I had a friend who could literally communicate with animals, I snickered and requested, “Ask it if it knows another snail named Gary!”

Castiel squinted in confusion but quietly mouthed something at the snail. He waited a moment and then replied, “It…does not comprehend the concept of a name as we know it, nor does it know what Gary means.”

I shrugged. It was worth a shot.

Having had my fill, I set off up the peninsula’s unstable path again, letting Dean and Castiel take the lead this time. The angel was incredibly graceful and accurate with where he stepped compared to Dean and me, but it was hardly a fair comparison as he had wings to balance him out.

This time when we reached the edge of the forest, we followed the actual trail down a different path towards the beach. This path only involved mildly treacherous rock climbing and tidepool jumping, which after the peninsula was a breeze.

The beach we ended up on was perfect by my standards. It was about as far removed from a tourist beach as a beach could be, left all natural and completely empty save for us. Low-hanging palm trees and shaded estuaries reached towards the soft sand, and at the water’s edge craggy undersea rocks that must’ve served as an amazing habitat for all sorts of life kicked up waves onto the shore.

I discarded my shoes in the shade of a palm tree, giving into my instincts and running into the surf. Though I stopped myself before the water level could reach my shorts, I relished the feeling of the cool, clean water on my skin and inhaled deep to get as much salt in my system as I could.

The three of us trekked along the beach for a while, leaving footprints in the sand. Dean followed my lead and removed his shoes, and though Castiel was wearing long pants, he too took off his shoes and socks and waded in the water.

“I don’t mind my clothes being a little damp,” he explained when questioned.

Halfway down the beach, the sand changed from white and grainy to black and fine, glittering like the night sky under the sunlight. The volcanic sand burned the soles of my feet, but its surface was so smooth to touch that I couldn’t help but run over it every chance I got.

Just past the patch of volcanic sand, we spotted another person wading in the water ahead. Judging by the height alone, we knew it was Sam.

“Found him,” Dean triumphantly announced. “I think I’m gonna go pay him a visit,” he decided deviously.

Castiel and I watched side by side as Dean trotted along the wet sand towards his brother. Sam noticed him just as he was right next to him.

“Heya, Sammy,” Dean greeted. “Came down here for an early morning swim?”

“Not a swim,” Sam corrected. “Just a jog and some wading.”

“Nonsense, you definitely came down here to swim.”

Playfully shoving at his brother, Dean stumbled a tad too far forward and pushed Sam clean off his feet and into the water. He landed with a massive splash in the shallows, sputtering and spitting salt water out of his mouth.

Though Dean brought up a hand to cover his mouth, I could see him shaking with laughter. Sam didn’t seem to find the situation near as hilarious as he did.

“What the hell was that for, Dean?” he demanded. “You jerk!”

“I didn’t mean to!” Dean defended, though his laughter didn’t make him sound particularly convincing.

Sam smirked and pulled himself to his feet, sopping wet and dripping water. “Fine, if you wanna be like that, two can play at that game.”

Reaching up to grab Dean by the shoulder, Sam all but dunked his brother under the water. Now he was the one laughing when Dean breached the surface and glared up at him.

“Alright, I see how this is gonna be,” Dean said after he got all the salt water out of his mouth.

Once he’d risen out of the water, Dean sliced a hand through an incoming wave towards Sam. Sam looked like he’d been expecting it and returned the splash attack, grinning competitively as a splash war unfolded.

Meanwhile, Castiel and I watched the spectacle from a safe distance as the two brothers chased and splashed each other in the shallow water.

I shook my head but couldn’t keep the fond smile off my face. “They are ridiculous.”

“At times, they certainly can be,” Castiel agreed.

Turning curiously to the angel, I asked pointblank, “Do you ever look at them when they’re doing stuff like this and think to yourself, ‘these are the two people I’ve devoted my life to?’”

“Regularly,” Castiel confirmed. A smile tugged at his lips. “But I have never once regretted it.”

Now smiling from the sappiness of the moment, I left the brothers to their roughhousing and resumed walking along the beach, this time moving slowly and scanning the sand around my feet.

“What are you doing?” Castiel inquired once he’d caught up to me.

“Beachcombing,” I offhandedly answered. “It’s one of my favorite things do, and this is the perfect beach for it.”

“…I don’t see much point in combing a beach. The tide will only undo any combing you attempt to perform on the sand.”

Chuckling, I was about to clear up Castiel’s confusion when the first big shell I’d seen thus far entered my line of sight. “Ooh, this is a good find!” I cheered, picking up the treasure and dusting it off.

The shell was a periwinkle that was mostly light brown with green stripes. Part of it was chipped off at the bottom and the colors were slightly faded, but it was an unusual enough combination of pigments that I decided it was worth keeping.

“Beachcombing doesn’t mean literally combing a beach, Cas,” I explained. “It means looking for and gathering treasures on a beach, like this!”

I held up the shell to show him, and he stared at it for a few moments. Something changed in his expression, his pupils dilating and features softening as he observed it. It was almost as though he was in a trance, and even his wings had fluffed up a little.

“I…I like this shell,” Castiel affirmed. “May I have it?”

Though I was already attached to it, I decided that Castiel would enjoy it more than I would. “Sure, you can keep it.”

Placing the shell in his hand, I watched as the angel turned it over in his palm and closely admired it.

“You _really_ like it, huh?” I chuckled, getting a little weirded out by how fixated he was on such a simple object.

“I do…” he distantly confirmed. “It…reminds me of Dean.”

Well, that explained it. Even so, this was a little much for an item that reminded someone of their boyfriend.

Finally breaking eye contact with the shell, Castiel surveyed the beach. “I would like to gather more items like this.”

Perking up and grinning at the angel, I was in enthusiastic agreement. “You can be my beachcombing buddy!”

“Yes…beachcombing.” Castiel had again gone back to staring at the shell, but he snapped himself out of it and gingerly placed the shell in one of his trench coat’s inner pockets.

For the next hour or so of our beach excursion, Castiel and I walked back and forth along the sand, digging out promising items from clumps of seaweed and wet earth. It turned out that Castiel was a natural at beachcombing; whether it was his heightened perception as an angel or just an eye for detail, he was outdoing me, and mind you I was an expert beachcomber with years of experience under my belt!

At some point I spotted Castiel holding what looked like an entire sea fan. I hadn’t even been aware that any coral was washed up on this beach…

“Where’d you find that?” I questioned, admiring the coral.

“It was buried in the sand,” he simply replied, holding up the webbed, purple structure for me to see.

“That’s a good find,” I applauded. “Where’s the rest of your spoils?”

“In my pockets.”

Dang, he came prepared. I hadn’t even thought to bring a bag with me to hold all the stuff I collected, and I was left precariously balancing the shells and sea urchin skeletons I’d gathered in the palms of my hands.

After a bit more of that, I was beat. Stepping back from the untouched sand, I let Castiel have his fun without me. He seemed incredibly intent on hunting down as many things as he could, meticulously and efficiently poking through the beach’s crevices and sand piles until he found what he was looking for. The way he kept his wings tucked closely behind him made him look like a sandpiper pecking for prey in the surf.

At some point, Sam and Dean’s splash war had come to an end, or at least one or both of them surrendered. Since they were already completely soaked, they’d moved on to swimming along the rocks.

Dean emerged from the water as a sopping wet, panting mess. “Alright, I give,” he huffed out. “That kid is too athletic, I can’t keep up with him.”

Chuckling, I stepped aside in the shade to make space for him. An especially strong wave pounded against the sand, and Dean whistled as he followed the line of the distant blue horizon.

“I didn’t know just how badly we needed a beach vacation until now,” he commented.

“Everyone needs a beach vacation,” I replied. “Even if they don’t realize it, they do.”

Humming in agreement, Dean let his gaze follow the stretch of the beach until it landed on where Castiel was squatted down. The angel was parting away the sand under a fallen palm leaf, working with immense focus.

“What’s gotten into him?” Dean asked.

“Oh, he’s beachcombing,” I answered. “I think I got him hooked on it.”

Laughing low in his throat, Dean fondly commented, “Of course he’d get hooked on that.”

Right then, Castiel popped back up, having pulled a whole sand dollar from under the leaf. Examining the specimen, Castiel nodded in satisfaction and carefully placed it in one of his pockets. Immediately afterwards he resumed scanning the beach.

“Oh man, his wings…” Dean said quietly. He didn’t even seem fully aware he’d said that out loud, because he blushed when I gave him a questioning look.

“They’re just…you know,” Dean awkwardly cleared his throat and looked away, training his sight on his angel’s wings again.

To be fair, Castiel’s wings were definitely the most noticeable part of him in that moment. The way the tropical sun beat down over his feathers made them shimmer so much that they looked more blue than black.

“They’re… _he’s_ beautiful,” Dean whispered in awe.

I chanced a look at Dean’s face then. He was smiling, and for once it looked like all of his guard was down, exposing his inner softness. And the way he was looking at Castiel…well, it was more than just loving.

If someone had told me a year ago that one day Dean Winchester would make a face like that, I’d have probably laughed at them ‘til I collapsed.

“How are things?” I thought to ask. “With you and him, I mean.”

“Great,” Dean huffed, still entranced by the gleaming wings. “Really great, I never even thought something like this could…” He didn’t finish his thought, but I got the idea.

“That’s awesome.”

“I mean, not to say we haven’t had hiccups, but it wouldn’t be much of a relationship without that, would it?”

“No, it wouldn’t be,” I agreed. Unable to help my curiosity, I asked, “What kind of hiccups?”

“Simple stuff. He worries about me a lot more and I worry about him a lot more, but that just comes with the territory. Oh, and the dumb stuff we argue about…” He laughed briefly. “Sammy can tell you, it’s ridiculous. But when you’re as stubborn as we are, you’re bound to butt heads sometimes.”

“No kidding. I’d be more surprised if you didn’t.”

“Haven’t had a conflict we couldn’t handle, though,” he proudly proclaimed. “Not yet, anyways.”

“Don’t jinx yourself!” I joked.

“I’m not, I’m not! Trust me, I know about curses, and it takes way more than that.” He turned more serious again. “But yeah, other than that and the angels finding out about us and throwing a fit, things have been pretty sweet.”

For the life of me, I couldn’t stop smiling. “I’m glad.”

We spent a bit more time at the beach, but eventually the sun rose high enough that I began to worry about my lack of sunscreen. I tried to fit the spoils of my beachcombing into the pockets of my shorts, and though they barely fit, I figured that as long as I was careful I could get everything up to the Villa intact.

My eyes went wide when after I’d finished that, Castiel approached me with a massive hunk of fossilized brain coral.

“Cas?” I asked in a high-pitched voice. “Where’d you find that?”

“Under several other rocks,” Castiel casually answered. “I was impressed by the wavy patterns on its surface.”

When it became apparent he intended to carry the rounded white skeleton back with us, I was a little concerned. “You, uh…gonna bring that all the way up the hill?”

“That is my intent,” Castiel nodded. “I have angelic strength and balance, I’ll be perfectly fine.”

That was true…I was just flabbergasted by him making such a great find on his first ever beachcombing expedition.

The brain coral proved an easy weight for Castiel to carry up the hillside. Meanwhile, I had to step lightly to keep from crushing the more fragile items in my pockets, and Sam and Dean were exposed to the full force of the ocean’s gales as we climbed. By the time we reached the forest cover, both of them were shivering in their sopping clothes.

Everyone dispersed when we reached the Villa. Sam and Dean went to their rooms to change into dry clothes while Castiel and I spread out our treasures on the kitchen’s dining table.

To say the least, I was quite impressed by the fruits of Castiel’s labor. Other than the gargantuan piece of brain coral, he had the sea fan, a couple pieces of branch coral, the sand dollar, the tiniest sea biscuit I’d ever laid eyes on, several urchin skeletons (some of which still had spines attached), a dried-out piece of sea sponge, a handful of limpets, and numerous shells alongside the original one that sparked his obsession.

Meanwhile, I only had several shells and three urchins to show for my efforts. I’d called it quits much earlier than he did, but still…dang.

After donating my measly collection to Castiel’s undoubtedly superior one, I climbed the stairs to the balcony. Sam was seated in the recliner overlooking the view, but most of his attention was dedicated to the laptop sitting on his legs.

“You brought your laptop?” I asked.

“Yeah, tend to bring it everywhere,” Sam replied, and I knew he was right. “I wanted to look for stuff we could do while we’re here, but I can’t get the internet to work.”

“They might not even have internet since all the power lines are down,” I pointed out.

Shaking his head, Sam conceded, “Yeah, you’re probably right. I can’t even get a cell signal out here.”

Flipping his laptop closed, Sam stood up and strolled to the edge of the balcony. I joined him in admiring the magnificent sights it offered.

“We really are in the middle of nowhere,” he commented as his gaze swept across the ocean.

“Perfect place to get off the grid,” I added. “We’re far away from the media frenzy back home, and I don’t think the angels have a clue we’re here.”

“Speaking of which…have you given any thought to how you’re gonna keep your wish?”

That single question re-sparked a whole series of thoughts that had been lying dormant in my brain. Truthfully, I hadn’t given it much thought, although the matter had been nibbling at the back of my mind the whole time.

“I…I don’t know,” I managed, hanging my head in shame. “I haven’t been able to think of any ideas that would work yet.”

“You’ll think of something,” he encouraged. “In the meantime, I’ll let you know if I come up with anything.”

That made me feel a lot better. “Thanks, Sam.”

“But like I said, I’m sure you’ll think of something. If you survived your first year of college, you can think of how to apply your wish to make a big enough difference.”

“Yeah, I _barely_ survived my first year of college,” I corrected him. “And I still have three more…”

“You’ll make it.” Sam patted me on the back.

“I hope you’re right.”

A few minutes of ocean-watching later, someone happened to climb the steps and walk towards us. It was Silvan carrying a stack of towels towards one of the bathrooms.

“You’re looking for something to do?” he assumed.

“Yeah, I was trying to find stuff we could do on my laptop, but…” Sam trailed off, weakly gesturing to the closed device where it sat in his chair.

“There’s no internet here. If you want, you can give me a few minutes to set up a hotspot from my phone. I’m one of the lucky few who has cell service. In the meantime, there are some games in the bedroom downstairs; you’re welcome to them.”

Sam brightened. “That’d be great.”

Nodding, Silvan continued on his way without another word. He was _still_ being so detached from us than when we first met.

Since we had nothing better to do, we went ahead and scoured the downstairs bedroom for the games Silvan had told us about. They were stored in a small cabinet beside the bed, and as far as we could see, they looked like a typical collection of card games, board games, and puzzles. Sam dug through the top shelf while I explored the lower shelf. Nothing much stood out to me especially, at least until I reached the bottom.

A hardcover book with a red dragon on the front caught my eye. I pulled it out and was surprised to see that it was one of a few books sealed in a plastic bag. There were some other miscellaneous items in the bag as well, such as a box of colorful dice and several empty papers.

“Is that Dungeons and Dragons?” Sam asked, excitement lifting his voice as I brought up the bag for him to see. “God, I haven’t played this in years…”

“You played D&D?” I asked, chuckling at the image of a teenage Sam rolling dice across a table and calling out actions for his character.

“When I started college, there was a club for it, and…” He shrugged, getting a little self-conscious. “It was just a way to make friends. I didn’t play it for very long, got too busy with school.”

“I’ve kind of always wanted to try it,” I admitted. “You wanna play it?”

“If we can convince Dean and Cas to join, why not?”

Bag of supplies in hand, we set out to find the other half of our group. We didn’t have to go far to find Dean; he was laid out in a recliner on the pool deck. His sunglasses were back on, so I couldn’t even tell if he was awake or not.

Whether or not Dean was asleep didn’t seem to bother Sam.

“Hey Dean,” Sam called, shaking his brother’s shoulder.

“What, what?” Dean grumbled in annoyance, lowering his sunglasses to peer up at us. He looked at the bag of D&D supplies dangling from my fingers and squinted at it in confusion.

“You interested in a game of D&D?” Sam got right to the point.

“What, that game nerds play with the dice?” Dean chortled. “No thanks, I have _some_ shreds of dignity left.”

I scoffed. “Dean…you’ve literally LARPed before. Once you’ve reached that level of nerdiness, there’s no going back.”

Though he rolled his eyes and fell back in the recliner, Dean knew that was fact. “Fine, I’ll humor you.”

“I think you’ll actually like it,” Sam encouraged. “Now we just gotta get Cas in on it.”

“Oh, he’ll eat this game up,” Dean laughed, no doubt at the mental images spawned by that thought. “Where is he, anyways? Haven’t seen him since we got back from the beach.”

“I think I saw him go into your room a while ago,” Sam recalled.

Unanimously deciding that we should go check on him, the three of us climbed upstairs. Dean led the way to his and Castiel’s room, which for some reason was entirely closed off; the doors were closed and the windows were shuttered.

Eyeing the shut doors with confusion, Dean knocked his fist against one of them.

“Cas, you in there?” he called.

“Dean!” Castiel cried in surprise. Something in the room was knocked over and landed with a brittle thump on the floor.

“…Everything okay in there?”

More fumbling sounds emanated through the cracks in the shuttered windows. “Y-yes, everything is fine.” Castiel sounded…nervous?

“Okaaay…I’m coming in now, if that’s alright.”

The fumbling abruptly stopped. “N-no, you can’t come in here.”

A beat of silence passed as Dean stared at the door, befuddled. “Why the hell not?”

“Um, because…” Something else hit the floor as Castiel moved about inside. “Why do you want to be in here?” he deflected.

“I was just gonna ask if you wanted to play a game with us,” Dean was starting to sound upset. “And, I dunno, maybe spend some time with you?”

“What game are you playing?”

“Dungeons and Dragons, a real nerdy one. You’d like it.”

“…I’m not at all familiar with that, but if you’re all participating in it, then I will as well.”

Exhaling loudly, Dean returned back to his original topic. “Great. You gonna let me in now?”

“No,” Castiel insisted.

Dean glared at the door, getting desperate. “I just wanna see you!”

“You’re not allowed,” Castiel stated, loud and sudden. “You’re not allowed…” he repeated more softly, regretting his harsher tone the first time. “Please, just…go.”

Any frustration in Dean’s face faded into a distinct kicked puppy look. I felt my face fall as he hesitantly backed away from the door and turned to face us.

“What’d I do?” he desperately whispered to Sam.

Though Sam watched him sympathetically, all he could do was shrug. 

My concerned gaze fell on the shuttered windows and doors. What would cause Castiel to act like that and say those things? This was not the sort of behavior any of us would expect from him; he was either hiding something, was in a weird mood, or both. But whatever it was, the way it was affecting Dean was heartbreaking to watch, and I intended to get to the bottom of it.

Dean gave the doors one last glance and shook his head, leaving us to go downstairs. Neither Sam nor I was sure what to say on the matter, so we didn’t say anything at all and instead walked to the other end of the balcony.

Silvan happened upon us and held his phone out to show us, apparently unaware of our shocked silence.

“I have the hotspot,” he told Sam. “If you want to try using it, now’s the time.”

Perking up, Sam returned to his chair where his laptop was waiting. “Oh, thanks! I’m just used to planning out where we’re going and what we’re doing on trips like this…”

Once he’d opened his laptop, Sam immediately pulled up his browser and tried connecting to the hotspot. Although he was able to link the two, I looked over his shoulder and saw that it didn’t have many bars…

Regardless, Sam must have had more optimism than I did, because he typed “Dominica” into the search bar and waited for something to pull up. The browser window remained entirely white, and after thirty seconds of the loading bar staying frozen at the top of the page, Sam slumped back in his seat.

“This…isn’t working,” he sighed regretfully. “The internet’s just too slow. That sucks…usually I get much better wi-fi than this.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw that strong emotion overtake Silvan’s face again. He opened his mouth to speak, and this time, that emotion rang out clear as a brass bell in his voice.

“Worth a try, at least,” Silvan curtly ground out, shoving his phone back into his pocket. “You should be thankful to have any chance at internet at all.”

Face twisting in surprise, Sam hurried to apologize. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sound like I…”

But Silvan was already tromping down the stairs without another glance in our direction. Sam’s mouth fell open as he watched him go, and he eventually looked away, ashamed. Sighing and hauling himself to his feet, Sam closed his laptop and retreated to the study, leaving me standing there and wondering how it was possible for so much conflict to occur in the span of minutes.

I must have spaced out, reverting to staring at the ocean as I often did. I already had this weird conflict between Dean and Castiel to try and sort out, and now Silvan was acting more openly displeased with us. What to process and possibly also address first…?

Deciding that facing either conflict would be unpleasant, I pushed myself back off the railing and opted to look for something to drink in the fridge. It was way too easy to get dehydrated in this climate if you weren’t careful, and I might just be able to think better with something refreshing in my stomach.

Downstairs, I found Dean facedown and presumably passed out in the hammock. I hadn’t made it halfway to the kitchen before I noticed Silvan perched on the edge of the deck, dangling his legs in the pool. His eyes darted up and met mine, and we made tense eye contact. I wasn’t sure whether it was the calm provided by the nearby ocean or the fact that I subconsciously really wanted to cool off, but I walked over the side on the other end of the deck, dipping my legs into the water as well.

For a while, the waves made the only sound.

“I apologize for my outburst,” Silvan said.

When I turned to him, he was watching his legs swirl about in the pool. I tried to think of a significant response, one that would convey how I understood that he was clearly dealing with some strong emotions that my friends kept accidentally triggering, but all that came was, “I understand.”

Silvan turned to me in surprise. He scoffed, but a grin appeared on his face. “Forgive me for doubting that.”

Put on the spot, I replied with the first thing that came to mind. “Yeah, um…sorry. My friends say I’m a really good listener though, so…if you’re thinking of something, I…I can listen.”

Taking a deep breath, Silvan murmured, “That may be just what I need.”

When he didn’t say anything else, I considered standing up and leaving before it got awkward, but he did gather some words together.

“I’ve lived in Dominica my whole life,” he started, and I wondered if I would have to sit through his entire life story. “I’ve been here with my family in Calibishie, and for years I’ve seen tourists come and go. They’re usually well-off people from the US or Europe who want a tropical getaway, and they find out how cheap it is here and flock across our borders. I’m not bitter about that, not one bit; I welcome outsiders here. Tourism is good for Dominica, and there are people who come here and get involved in the island and see what we’re all about. Annalise is one of those people…that’s why I enjoy working with her here.”

He sadly shook his head, staring out at the water as the sun began to set. “But since I started caring for this place five years ago, I’ve seen how the majority of them are. They come here, they go to their resorts or condos like the Villa, and they spend their whole trip there. They could be here for days, weeks, or sometimes months, and they just stay in the safety of these massive homes and only ever venture out to go to the beach. They stay here and stare out at the ocean, their backs turned to Dominica itself.”

His stare hardened, the strong emotion underlying his features. “They complain about a lack of some luxury, about the milk running out in the fridge or the wi-fi being too slow. Yet there are people out there just a few miles away who are living in tents…like my family.”

I could literally feel my chest constrict with emotion as the imagery of that materialized. I didn’t know what to say.

“I have noticed this for so long now,” Silvan continued. “But since Maria hit, I have struggled to reconcile these feelings. I am not bitter about people who are ‘better off’ than me; one person’s standards of being better off may be completely different than another person’s, so it hardly matters. It is the people who come here and never leave the reach of luxury…they say they have been to Dominica, but that is hardly true; they have only been to a resort _located_ on Dominica. They stay there because they fear the conditions in the rural areas, and I don’t necessarily blame them for that…but it is those sorts of attitudes that keep us from getting the outside help we need in these times of crisis. They remain willfully ignorant.”

I thought back to years ago when I’d travelled the Caribbean. I’d been just a child then, but when I thought back to the imagery of the towns I visited and the people I saw, it all clicked into place like clockwork in my head. Back then, I didn’t even understand the concept of a developing country, but that was exactly where I had been. I hadn’t been one of those willfully ignorant tourists, but I’d been so young that I was blind, mindlessly enjoying the sights and befriending locals with hardly a second thought. But if I was put there now…would I have even stopped to think about it, or would I have turned my back to it all and stared out at the ocean I loved so much?

“We are not weak,” Silvan emphatically proclaimed. “Dominicans are strong, but in the aftermath of this catastrophe, we feel desolation…there is much hope, too, but also desolation. People who don’t know any better say we just have to stand up and get our hands on the wheel to steer ourselves back to where we need to be, but they don’t realize that we don’t have a wheel to grab onto in the first place. My family lost everything to Maria. I…”

A very different emotion clouded his eyes then, one that I could actually place a name to. “My brother…he was among the casualties.”

Grief radiated off Silvan, so intense that I nearly buckled under it. “I’m…so sorry…”

“I am too,” Silvan lowly agreed.

Thoughts weighed by the heavy mood, I remembered back to when I was young. I hesitated, but decided to divulge, “When I was five, hurricane Katrina hit the coast where a lot of my relatives lived.”

Silvan turned to me, curious and attentive.

“I wasn’t there for the storm, but I saw the aftermath. The devastation there still haunts me; probably contributed to a fear of storms I’ve developed since, actually. I had an aunt who was a nurse…she had to stay behind at the hospital with patients when Katrina hit. We didn’t hear from her for days and we thought she was dead…”

Quietly humming as he took this in, Silvan admitted, “I was mistaken. Maybe you do understand, to a degree.”

Deciding I may as well clear up another misunderstanding, I added, “A-and for the record, when you saw me on the balcony watching the ocean last night…I was actually thinking about what I saw when we drove up, how so many people were struggling in the aftermath of the storm.”

A genuine smile appeared on Silvan’s face. “I’ve been around so many ill-minded tourists that I’ve learned to judge people too early. You seem to have a good awareness of what’s going on here, or at least a better one than a lot of people who come here.”

“And…about my friends, they–”

“I know your friends mean well,” Silvan assured me. “They are just unadjusted, and perhaps a bit impulsive. But I get the sense that they are good people who do good things.”

“They are.” I smiled proudly. “They’re all great guys. Their whole life’s purpose is basically to help people.”

Silvan reflected my smile. “Those are the exact kinds of people we need here in Dominica right now.” Swirling his feet around in the water with more vigor, he said, “I’m glad we could clear up this up. I didn’t want there to be any hostility while you’re staying here.”

“Yeah…” A potential idea poked out at me, and though it might not work, I decided to give it voice anyways. “Say…since we don’t really know what all is on the island here, maybe you could plan our trip?”

Quirking an eyebrow, Silvan asked for clarification. “How do you mean?”

“You’ve lived here your whole life, so you could put together the best trip plan. And…and better yet, you can show us what Dominica really is. Don’t leave out any of the gritty details or sugarcoat any of it, just…you could show us Dominica.”

That idea appeared to really resonate with him. “I…think that’s a great idea. Although I have to warn you, if you let me plan all your excursions, you’re going to find yourself in some bizarre places.”

“All the better!” I encouraged. “I’ve been here in the Caribbean before when I was a lot younger, and I want to experience that again with a fresh perspective.”

“I quite like your attitude,” Silvan had turned considerably more upbeat. “Do you think there’s any chance that a good dinner would thaw the ice between your friends and I?”

“Definitely,” I replied without missing a beat. “The Winchesters have a talent for making food disappear.”

“I’ll put something together, then.” With that, he lifted his legs out of the pool and rose to his feet, walking towards the kitchen and leaving a trail of droplets behind him.

Dazed by how much ground was covered in that conversation, I trekked back upstairs. Figuring I’d have to wait a while before dinner was ready, I passed the time by reading one of the D&D books I’d left up there. The game sure was complicated, but also worthwhile for how appealing its concept turned out to be.

Nearly an hour and a half and countless pages of long instructions later, Silvan called out, “I have food down here!”

Even from all the way on the second floor I could hear Dean snort to wakefulness and mutter, “Food?”

“Silvan cooked for us?” Sam asked me, utterly baffled as he emerged from the study.

“Yep,” I cheerily replied, looking forward to a meal. “I had a long talk with him. It’s okay, I promise.”

Once he’d accepted that, Sam followed me downstairs to the kitchen. Dean was already seated at the table, eyes cartoonishly large as he took in the spread Silvan had prepared. The caretaker had gone all out with seared tuna, focaccia (?) bread, pumpkin soup, and pineapple cucumber salad. My mouth was watering within seconds of stepping into the room.

Everyone grabbed hearty helpings for their plate, since we hadn’t eaten much of anything that day. Sam took a large portion of the salad, and even Dean took some for himself (which Sam looked undeniably pleased to see).

Silvan sat at the head of the table with his own plate, looking around at the three of us. “Where’s your trenchcoated friend?” he asked.

“Cas?” Dean’s voice was muffled by a bite of bread. He swallowed and replied, “He doesn’t eat much, he’ll be fine. I…” His face fell slightly. “I dunno where he is.”

Right, there was still that odd conflict to manage. I tried not to let the reminder of the day’s relationship drama weigh me down as I ate.

The meal passed in comfortable, relative quiet; or at least as much quiet as there could be when Dean was practically moaning into every bite of tuna he took, much to the discomfort of Sam and amusement of Silvan.

“Normally, I’m more into land meat,” Dean said between bites of fish. “But this is…wow. How’d you get it like this?”

“Dominicans know their seafood,” was the only sly reply Silvan offered.

Near the end of the meal when our plates were mostly empty, Silvan lowered his fork to the table with a noticeable “clink.” On instinct, all of us turned to look at him, and he straightened himself out as though he were about to give a speech.

“So, I had a great talk with [Y/N] earlier,” Silvan sent me a meaningful look, “and she’s recommended that I plan your activities for your stay here.”

Sam’s eyes widened in surprise. “Really? What…spurred that?”

“Deep discussion,” was all Silvan said. “I realize that you may not know much about how this island really is, and [Y/N] and I decided that I should show you from a local’s perspective, including all the gritty details.”

“I’m game,” Dean declared. “Long as you’re okay with planning all that for us.”

“I’m more than okay with it,” Silvan assured. “I think it’s important that people see Dominica for what it is, even when not all the details are pretty such as they are now. And truthfully, this will help me get my mind off the unpretty details in my own life right now. I lost a brother to Maria, and the rest of my family lost their home.”

Stunned silence radiated from the Winchesters. Sam was the first one to get his mouth working again.

“Wow, I…” he shook his head. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright,” Silvan smiled sadly. “My job here at the Villa is the main thing supporting them right now, and I intend to do it well for their sake.”

Conversation turned more lighthearted after that, all the way up until we dumped our plates in the sink and bid Silvan good night, thanking him profusely for the meal. Sam wanted to stick around and help with the dishes, but Silvan insisted that we all get an early night for what he had planned tomorrow.

Only when we returned to the night-cloaked balcony did Dean realize his sleeping arrangements might be compromised. Creeping towards his bedroom, he put an ear up against the wood of the doors.

Pulling away, he whispered, “I don’t think he’s in there.”

I waited beside him, wanting to make sure that he’d have a place to sleep. Though I was hopeful that he could sneak into the room while Castiel was away, my hopes were dashed when turning neither of the door’s handles yielded any results.

“That bastard locked me out!” Dean yelled. “Why would he…?”

Small traces of sadness creased Dean’s face in the darkness, but he was quick to bury his emotions under anger as he often did.

“So help me, I am _kicking_ this door down right now!”

Just as he was stepping back and raising a foot, I grabbed him by the shoulder.

“Whoa, wait!” I shouted. “You can’t! We’re only staying here free of charge so long as we don’t break anything!”

Brimming with frustration, Dean unwillingly abandoned his stance, kicking at the wooden floor instead. “I can’t believe he’d lock me out. What has gotten into him?”

I was wondering the same thing. It was already too late to try and figure that out today, though.

A more troubling thought occurred to Dean then. “Where am I gonna sleep?”

“There’s a second spare bed in the study,” Sam offered, clad in PJs and peeking out of his room. “You’re welcome to it.”

“…I think I gotta take you up on that offer,” Dean sighed, looking hopelessly at the doors to his own room.

Satisfied once Dean had settled into the small but sufficient single bed by the study’s entrance, I bid the Winchesters good night and settled into my own bedroom. Though I was troubled by Castiel not being around, I knew the angel liked to sneak away and be on his own sometimes so I wasn’t especially worried.

Rather than go to bed right away, I stayed up an extra half hour reviewing more of the D&D books. I was quickly getting hooked on the universe this game created and was actually getting excited to play it.

Right in the middle of reading the information about various classes, someone appeared in my doorway. I was only half-surprised to see that it was a certain missing angel.

“Cas?” I greeted, holding back a yawn. “Where have you been?”

The angel hesitated, but divulged, “Beachcombing.”

“Again?” I huffed a sleepy laugh. “You really are hooked.”

“Have you seen Dean anywhere?” Castiel changed the subject.

I froze for a few seconds, wondering what this might have to do with Castiel’s off behavior. “He’s…sleeping in the study tonight,” I carefully replied.

Castiel didn’t look like he fully believed me and left my doorway. Curious to see if this might lead to a resolution in their conflict, I jumped out of bed and followed him.

Through the barely-open slats of the study’s windows, I could see Sam sleeping soundly on the far bed and Dean tightly tucked under the covers of the nearer bed. Castiel was squinting at Dean, and when I stepped closer to better see his expression in the darkness, the angel looked hurt.

“I don’t understand…” he muttered to himself. “Dean always finds me before going to bed so we can spend the night together.”

Part of me really wanted to speak up, but I couldn’t think of what to say. Should I tell him how Dean reacted when he found out the doors to their room were locked? Or should I try and ask Castiel just what the heck he’d been doing behind those closed doors?

Before I could say anything, Castiel quietly reprimanded himself. “I must have done something wrong…”

Both of his wings lifted up, a sign I knew meant he was preparing to teleport away.

“Cas, wait!” I called, but he was already gone.

Jeez, these two self-doubting dinguses were not going to make resolving this easy, were they?

That was enough for one day. Returning to my room and setting aside my game books, I crawled into bed. The ocean’s lullaby carried me off to sleep easily, and although my body lay still on the mattress, I could nearly feel the sway of waves underneath me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my, conflict! :O However will this be resolved??
> 
> ...Well, _I_ already know the answer to that question, 'cause I already wrote it, but you don't! >:D You'll find out soon tho.
> 
> Picture of rocky beach: http://464.ce9.myftpupload.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/06/beaches.jpg


	4. In which you become a relationship counselor, Dean needs a hug, Cas is an interior decorator, and Sam is a dog whisperer

_5/26/18_

The ocean’s proximity should have made it impossible for me to get a bad night’s sleep. Fate still found a way to make it happen nonetheless.

I shot out of bed as a horrified scream tore across the upper floor of the Villa. From the tone and inflection alone, I knew exactly who it was.

“Dean,” I breathed out, shaking off any traces of sleep and stumbling out of bed.

Beyond my door, bad weather was assaulting the coastline. I’d assumed it to be another instrument in the ocean’s symphony, but the tumbling, encompassing watery sounds turned out to be an absolute downpour of tropical rain. I couldn’t see the deluge well in the darkness, but the sound alone repelled me towards the back wall.

Getting ahold of myself, I followed the wall with shaky hands until I found the first window of the study, peering inside and willing myself to see through the darkness. I could only make out the shape of someone I assumed to be Dean sitting up in bed, trembling in a pool of blankets.

Someone across the study stood up and flipped on a light switch, illuminating the tiny room. The light hit my unadjusted eyes like a flashbulb, sending me reeling backwards away from the window with a hand covering the top half of my face.

“Dean?” Sam’s worried voice came from the room. “Hey, it’s okay, you’re okay. Give it a minute.”

Blinking hard several times until the burst of light dissipated from my vision, I peered back through the window. I had to take a few steps back to be able to squint into the lit room, but I got a view of Sam sitting beside Dean on the bed, draping a comforting arm over his trembling brother’s shoulders.

My chest swirled with sympathy as I watched Dean’s body slowly still. I knew all too well what that was like.

The last traces of overt shakiness left Dean’s hunched frame, and Sam heaved a sigh of relief and removed his arm. He stayed on the bed beside him, still watching Dean with concern. Neither of them said anything for several long moments.

Finally, Sam quietly commented, “I thought you didn’t get night terrors anymore.”

“I don’t,” Dean replied, voice brittle. “When Cas is around, at least.”

A beat passed as the meaning of that set in.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Sam offered.

“When have I ever wanted to talk about my night terrors?” Dean bit back.

“Not what I meant. I mean, do you wanna talk about what’s going on with you and Cas?”

At first, Dean reflexively shook his head, but he settled on muttering, “There’s nothing _to_ talk about. He kicked me out of our room and I don’t know why.”

“That doesn’t seem like something Cas would do,” Sam prodded.

“Yeah, it isn’t.”

“Can you think of anything you did that might’ve upset him?” Sam gently questioned.

Dean only thought about it for a moment before deciding, “No, I can’t think of anything. I was just telling [Y/N] earlier about how me and him never fought for long, and now…” A humorless laugh escaped him. “I jinxed it.”

“I’m not even sure if this is fighting,” Sam reassured. “It’s more like…some weird misunderstanding. Probably a lack of communication?”

“You heard the way he was talking,” Dean insisted. “He made it pretty clear that he didn’t want me around.”

Lost in thought, Sam concluded, “Yeah, something’s up with him. When has he ever _not_ wanted you around? I could be wrong, but I don’t think this is something that you caused; the change happened on Cas’s end. Whatever’s going on with him…it’s making him act suspiciously, to say the least.”

Sam hit the nail right on top of the head with that. Castiel _had_ been acting rather suspiciously. If I wanted to investigate and get to the bottom of this, which I definitely did, trying to figure out what had changed on Castiel’s part was a good place to start.

“I’m sure it’ll work out,” Sam reassured his brother. “This is just a simple lover’s spat, nothing you haven’t handled before.”

“You’re probably right,” Dean agreed with a sigh that turned into a yawn. “Now c’mon, lemme get back to sleepin’.”

Holding up his hands in surrender, Sam pushed off the bed and walked towards his side of the room. “You gonna be okay?” he checked.

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean dismissed. “Usually only happens once a night, I’ll be fine…”

Placated by that, Sam flipped the light switch off and climbed back into his own bed. Once the two of them were settled, leaving me alone with the ominous tumbling of rain, I scurried back to my room to seek shelter within four walls. Even though the balcony was covered, I hated to be outside in a downpour.

As I returned to my cozy spot under the covers, one thought dominated my mind before sleep reclaimed me: I had to fix whatever was going on with Dean and Castiel. Whatever it took, tomorrow I would ensure that my favorite pair of otters were happily, harmoniously together as I’d worked so hard to achieve.

This time when I woke up, I did so at 7:30. Waking up at 8:30 yesterday had been one thing, but 7:30? Dominica was working wonders for my internal clock.

I ran into Sam in the kitchen pouring himself a glass of fruit juice. “You’re up pretty early,” He noted, mildly astonished.

“I’m just as surprised as you,” I agreed. “What about Dean? If he’s up this early, that’d be the real miracle.”

“He’s…still in bed, I think,” Sam hesitated. “He had kind of a rough night.”

Right…I’d almost forgotten. 

“I heard,” I admitted. “You seen Cas anywhere?”

“Not at all.” Sam looked troubled. “You have any idea what’s up with him?”

Shaking my head, I affirmed, “No, but I intend to find out.”

Sam took a swig of juice. “Good luck, he can be tough to figure out.”

With Sam’s blessing, I spent much of the morning scouring the Villa for any sign of Castiel. I couldn’t find so much as a thread of his trench coat or a feather from his wings, and when even tearing through the entire garden yielded no results, I gave up.

By the time my search ended, Dean was awake, sitting at the kitchen’s dining table expectantly. I took the chair beside him, pleased to see that he was upbeat and awake after the incident last night.

“Hey look,” Dean excitedly pointed across the room when he saw me. “Silvan’s making crepes.”

That explained the lovely smells that had been swirling around the kitchen since I’d arrived. Silvan was huddled over the stove on the back wall, poking at a skillet and humming a tune under his breath.

We had to wait for a while until breakfast was ready, but the waiting paid off handsomely. Silvan brought over a plate with two jam-stuffed crepes for me and another plate with three entire crepes for Dean; he’d seen just how much food the Winchester was capable of putting away at dinner last night.

The crepes were amazing, and Silvan watched us with pride as we scarfed down the meal. He returned to the stove, intent on making more.

The light, fruity scents must have reached Sam’s nose as well, because he entered the kitchen before long. Silvan had a plate of crepes already prepared for him by then, strolling across the floor and placing the dish right into Sam’s hands.

A little surprised but happy to have a meal, Sam took his crepes and sat at the table. He brightened even more upon tasting his first bite.

“These are great!” he told Silvan. “You know, you didn’t have to make breakfast for us.”

“I insist,” Silvan contended, preparing another crepe at the stove. “It’s my father’s old recipe. I make it a point to serve it to every guest that stays here.”

The return of Silvan’s old, cheery attitude made the crepes taste that much sweeter. I was so glad we’d been able to diffuse the unspoken tensions between us and him, and I had a feeling that would make this trip all the more enjoyable.

Of course, as one conflict is resolved, another rises up to replace it.

Somewhere outside the Villa, Eve and Jack started barking up a storm. Setting aside a final plate of crepes, Silvan excused himself and hurried to the front door to see who they were barking at. I could hear him offering whoever it was a friendly greeting and an invitation inside. When he returned, Castiel was on his heels.

The angel froze the instant he caught sight of Dean in the room. His mouth opened and he looked like he might say something, but thought better of it and looked away, fidgeting with the button on his trench coat’s sleeve.

Dean watched Castiel for a few moments, his stare hardening when he realized the angel wasn’t going to say anything to him. Frowning, he stabbed his fork into his last crepe and resolutely ignored his boyfriend’s presence.

Great. Just when I thought these two were getting better at using their words, they had to go and prove me wrong.

Silvan offered the final plate of crepes to Castiel, and although the angel didn’t need them, he politely accepted and ate them. He looked like he was enjoying them quite a bit, and having tasted them myself had no doubts that was the case.

“So, about the plans for today,” Silvan addressed the group. “For the first part, you’re all going to need bathing suits, but pack a change of clothes as well.”

“What exactly are we doing?” Dean asked.

“You’ll see,” Silvan said, grinning mysteriously. “I figured I would start you out with my favorite thing to do here.”

Knowing we wouldn’t get a definite answer out of him, we finished breakfast and headed upstairs. Castiel followed us, though he kept a noticeable distance, even tucking his wings close to himself to appear as small as possible.

I was just about to head into my room to change when I heard Dean clap his hands together further down the balcony.

“Well, that’s just great,” he ground out, staring at the locked doors of his bedroom. “My bag’s in there. How am I supposed to get my bathing suit?”

Castiel, who had only then reached the top of the stairs, perked up. Momentarily struggling with something, he flapped his wings and disappeared in a whoosh. Dean spun around too late to see the angel and sighed in frustration.

There was another whoosh as Castiel teleported again, this time appearing right behind Dean. The hunter jumped and turned to look at Castiel, utterly done with whatever the angel was doing. He let his guard down somewhat when he saw that his duffel bag was cradled in the angel’s outstretched hands.

“Here,” Castiel stiffly offered, passing the bag to Dean. “I already took my swimming trunks from it.”

The awkward exchange ended with yet another whoosh as Castiel teleported away again. Dean stared at the newly empty space before him in utter disbelief.

Spinning around, he shout-whispered to me and Sam, “Did you see that? He’s _avoiding_ me!”

Both of us watched him with sympathy. There wasn’t anything else we could do in that moment, and we each left for our respective rooms to change.

Silvan was waiting for us by the front door as we descended down the stairs one by one, all dressed in our swimsuits. They were the same ones we’d bought back on the Noordam long ago; I still had my one-piece bathing suit, and each of Team Free Will had on swimming trunks and t-shirts. Each of us carried a smaller bag with a change of clothes as per Silvan’s recommendation.

Nodding as the last of us gathered. Silvan led the way outside towards the jeep. Eve and Jack snarled at us as we walked across the driveway, but Silvan called for them to calm down and they let us pass without a hiccup.

I noted with dismay that Castiel hurriedly took the passenger seat before anyone else could, followed by Dean taking the spot in the backseat as far away from the angel as possible. Something was gonna have to give between these two eventually, and I feared it may happen before I could step in and try to resolve the whole mess.

Even without knowing where we were going, I was ecstatic to be getting out on the island again. The Villa was nice, but I could only stay in one place for so long, especially when an entire island was waiting to be traversed.

Our drive took us through Calibishie back the way we came, even going around the airport and sticking to the coastline like before. The roads were just as I remembered them: twisty, fast, and _fun_. They led us through a seaside village and a pasture of cows all the way into an overgrown valley.

While I was busy admiring the colorful array of plant life passing by, I barely noticed that Silvan turned the car into a gravel patch on the side of the road. Beyond that patch was a piece of grassy property that contained a pavilion, changing stalls, a small warehouse…and a sign out front that said “River Tubing Tours.”

“We’re going tubing?” Dean asked in disbelief as we pulled up.

“Yes,” Silvan confirmed, turning off the car. “It’s nothing whitewater, don’t worry. I’ve gone on this tour many times since I was little. It’s a slow, gentle ride down the river.”

Popping open his door and leaving the car, Silvan led the way under the sign and onto the property. A local man emerged from under the pavilion, lighting up when he saw Silvan. He wore a wetsuit, hipster glasses framing expressive eyes, and had dreadlocks pulled back by a bandana.

“Danny, hey!” Silvan greeted, picking up the pace to meet him.

Danny wrapped Silvan in a half-hug when he reached him. “It’s been a while, Silvan.”

“I’ve been busy,” Silvan explained away, pulling out of the embrace and holding a hand towards us. “These are you clients for today.”

“Another batch of tourists from the Villa, huh?” Danny said knowingly.

“Yes, but they’re cool. Just keep an eye on them; I don’t think any of them have tubed before.”

Smiling reassuringly, Danny promised, “They’re in good hands.”

“I know they are.” Silvan patted Danny on the shoulder and started to leave.

“You’re not coming too?” Danny called after him.

“I would, but I have errands to run,” Silvan replied as he approached the car. “The Villa needs more supplies.”

Shaking his head, Danny chuckled and murmured to himself, “It’s always work, work, work with him…” Turning his attention to us, he asked, “So, you’ve never tubed before?”

Every last one of us shook our heads, and Danny chuckled again.

“Alright then, we’ll do this the beginner’s way.” He waved a friendly hand towards us. “I’m Danny, I’ll be your river guide.”

Right then, two dogs trotted out from the cover of the pavilion. Sam immediately lit up when they came towards us.

“And this is Guy and Lucky,” Danny introduced, reaching down to scritch behind one of their ears.

Beside me, Sam’s fingers were twitching with the urge to reach down and pet the good doggos. Guy was a long-haired, large dog with a narrow brown face while Lucky was a stout black dog with a happy face and tiny, wagging tail. They both smelled like they’d rolled around in something dead and were in dire need of a bath, but they were also incredibly sweet in demeanor.

“Feel free to pet them,” Danny took notice of Sam holding back.

Permission given, Sam immediately leaned down and started petting both of the dogs, who responded enthusiastically to his attentions. Guy repeatedly attempted to leap onto him and lick his face, and it was only Sam’s height that saved him from the wrath of muddy paws and slobber.

“You are such good dogs, aren’t you,” he cooed. “Yes you _are_ , you’re both good dogs.”

Face scrunched up somewhat, Dean warned, “Sam, you know they probably have fleas, right?”

“If they do, they won’t have them for long,” Danny assured. “These are our river dogs. They’ll follow us in and along the river in case anyone falls out of their tube.”

“Aw, you you’re not _just_ good dogs,” Sam praised, now rubbing Lucky’s exposed belly. “You’re good _river rescue_ dogs. Yes, yes you are…”

I really should’ve put Sam in close proximity to a dog sooner. The results were both adorable and hilarious.

Once we managed to wean Sam away from the puppers, Danny guided us alongside the warehouse. Sliding open a door revealed the interior was chock full of blue, circular rafting tubes, which Danny passed out to us one by one. He stepped a bit further into the warehouse and came back out with lifejackets for all of us, then took a second trip inside and retrieved hard hats.

Though he’d already slipped on his lifejacket, Dean stopped cold at the sight of the helmets. “Uh…what’re those for?”

“Just a precaution,” Danny assured, passing one of the helmets to Dean.

“Silvan said this was gonna be a slow, gentle ride.” Though he eyed it dubiously, Dean still put on and buckled his helmet.

“Silvan hasn’t been on the river since Maria,” Danny replied without missing a beat. “Things have gotten a little more…rapid-y.”

As ominous as that sounded, we all suited up and followed Danny down a path to the riverside. It looked to be pretty calm to me, with leisurely muddy water shaded by palms and guided by tall, rocky cliffs. Danny instructed us to put our tubes in the water one at a time, and that he would follow up the rear.

Sam got in his tube first, reclining in it as well as he could with his height and letting it slowly drag him towards the middle of the river. Dean followed next, then Castiel, and then me. The water was cool and cradled me through the fabric-covered hole of my rafting tube. Taking a moment to admire my surroundings and the sounds of chirping birds above, I let my eyes close as I relaxed.

Then I heard Sam call out in surprise and Dean yelp from up ahead.

When I opened my eyes, I was greeted with a sight both frightening and thrilling: the river descended along a bed of rocks, swirling and picking up pace as it dipped to and fro. Gripping the handles on my tube, I watched as Castiel was caught up in the rapids. The angel remained remarkably calm, holding out his wings for balance.

My own tube started to speed up somewhat, and I braced myself. I could feel the tube slipping downwards in an exhilarating drop and was tossed about thereafter by the whim of the river. It only lasted a short while, but by the time it was done, I was already wishing it had gone on longer.

Turns out I didn’t have to wish. The river was a series of calm, slow stretches like Silvan had described broken up by portions of rapids in between. After the first few, I found myself purposefully paddling towards the wildest looking paths of whitewater, chasing the excitement of racing down the river.

Danny followed us from behind, occasionally paddling forwards to free someone who’d run aground or fallen behind. Guy and Lucky ran alongside us on the shore whenever it was low enough and otherwise took to paddling beside us in the water. Sam was more than a little pleased that they seemed to enjoy sticking by his side; the dogs happily accepted all the praise and pets he offered them.

We drifted into a particularly long stretch of calm water, and I let myself relax and take in the sights again. I spotted several lizards and an iguana on the cliffs and more birds than I could count.

As I let my hand freely float in the water, something within reach caught my eye. At first, I thought it was a narrow, faded leaf, but when I plucked it from the water’s surface, I discovered it was actually a feather. It had a rounded tip and was a lovely shade of goldenrod.

Goldenrod…why did that word make me feel afraid all of a sudden?

It hit me just as we reached the next rapids: Raziel’s feathers were this color. Though it seemed highly unlikely that he would have found us, let alone that I would have found evidence of his presence, paranoia kicked in and I clung more tightly to my tube’s handles than usual as I traversed the rapids.

The second we were back in calm water, I paddled to catch up to Castiel. The angel had been incredibly quiet for the entire trip, alternating between holding out his wings for balance and letting them drag through the water to steer himself.

Grabbing ahold of his tube so we wouldn’t drift apart, I held up the feather. “Is this an angel feather?”

Squinting at it for a moment, Castiel quickly determined, “No, that’s not an angel feather. It’s definitely not Raziel’s, if that’s what you’re worried about. I would sense his presence if he had entered this world.”

Exhaling now that that weight had been lifted off my chest, I fell back into the embrace of my tube. “Thank goodness. I didn’t think it was his, I just had to be sure.”

“May I have the feather?” Castiel suddenly asked.

Blanking for a moment, I gently passed it into his fingers. “Sure, you can take it.”

As I leaned across our tubes to reach him, I happened to see into the covered bottom of Castiel’s perch. There were several colorful leaves, some oddly-shaped seedpods, some loose moss, and various types of smooth stones all sitting beneath him.

My mouth fell open. “Are you…beachcombing again?”

“I think the more appropriate term for this situation would be ‘rivercombing,’” Castiel corrected, still admiring the feather.

“That’s from a mangrove cuckoo,” Danny interjected as he floated by us, nodding towards the feather. “Some of them live around this area. I find their feathers in the water sometimes.” He glanced upwards, excitement lighting up his face as he pointed towards an overhanging branch. “And up there you can see a green heron. They have beautiful feathers.”

“I take it you have an affinity for birds?” Castiel assumed, safely tucking away his feather among his other goodies.

“Birdwatching is a big hobby of mine,” Danny confirmed. “It gives me something to do on the tours.”

My eye caught a hummingbird hovering around one of the cliffs, poking its needlelike beak into a flower growing on a vine. “What’s that hummingbird?”

“That’s an Antillean crested hummingbird,” Danny confidently answered. “Hummingbirds are probably my favorite. You know, they have such a fast metabolism that their body has to shut down every night; otherwise, they would starve in their sleep.” He smiled at the speedy little bird as it jerked from one flower on the vine to the next. “And yet they manage to complete massive migration patterns that span continents. Nature is truly amazing.”

I was impressed by his knowledge. “You really do know a lot about birds.”

“Like I said, it gives me something to do.” Danny flashed a grin at us and pushed off, reclaiming his position at the back of our procession.

The remainder of the river had a few more rapids. Sam’s tube nearly toppled over and capsized when it caught on a rock hidden under the whitewater, but he steadied himself in time and stayed upright. Both Guy and Lucky rushed to his side nonetheless, and Sam rewarded them with many, many pets for doing their duty.

Our trip came to an end just shy of where the river fed into the ocean. Danny guided our tubes towards the side of the river right underneath a bridge, and we climbed out to the roadside where a vehicle was waiting for us. Castiel gathered his “rivercombing” treasures and carried them by hand out of the water.

At first, Danny said the dogs would have to wait with the tubes beside the river since there were only five seats in his car, but Sam had the bright idea to let the pooches sit in his lap for the entire ride. Though dubious at first, Danny let him try it, and they both fit. Sam looked like a giddy child to have two wet puppies in his lap, sticking their heads out the window and letting their tongues flap in the breeze as we drove back.

We pulled back onto the property within a few short minutes. After we’d made sure to pay Danny for the tour, adding as big a tip as we could with our cash supply, we went to the changing stalls and took our time to dress in the dry clothes we’d left there.

Except for Castiel. He just…walked into one of the stalls, closed the door, and opened it back up two seconds later fully clothed in his suit and trench coat. Sometimes I was really jealous of his angel powers; they made the little tedious things in life so much easier.

Just as we were all finished getting dressed, Silvan’s jeep pulled into the gravel lot. Danny ran over to greet him, bumping fists with him as he exited the car.

“Tour go well?” Silvan asked.

“Went great,” Danny affirmed. “Your errands?”

“Ran a little overtime, but I got them all done.”

Chuckling and placing a grasping hand on Silvan’s shoulder, Danny jokingly chastised, “You work too hard. You should really take a break, I’m serious.”

A pained smile appeared on Silvan’s face. “You know I can’t do that.”

“Sure you can!” Danny encouraged. “One of these days you should come here to tube the river with me. I miss when we used to do that.”

Though the idea seemed to entice him, Silvan turned it down. “I couldn’t possibly get away from work long enough to do that.”

“Then so help me, I’ll come to you!” Danny pointed a finger towards Silvan, backing away. “One of these days, I’m going to show up at that Villa and crash your workday.”

The pained smiled on Silvan’s face grew. “Danny…”

“Expect me!” Danny called, winking and dashing back under the pavilion.

Huh…their interactions were rather endearing to observe. It almost felt familiar.

I brushed it off and piled into the jeep. Everyone else followed suit, though Sam had to be coaxed away from his new dog friends before he took his seat.

“Where to now, Silvan?” Dean asked as the caretaker buckled himself in and started up the car.

“I actually have a few errands left to run across the island,” Silvan told us as he backed the car out onto the road. “But I figured since you will all be along with me, I may as well take the long way and guide you on a driving tour through the middle of Dominica.”

That idea excited me a lot, partially because it meant more time on the rollercoaster roads, and also because it would be a great chance to see the actual rural side of Dominica. If Silvan intended to show us the real Dominica, this was a good way to do it.

The jeep took off down the mountainous road, climbing and descending with every hill in our path and swerving around turns. As we left the coastline behind, we were thrust right into the middle of the mountains. The sheer dips and peaks in the terrain were nothing short of amazing, and I had to wonder what they looked like before Maria stripped them of their tree cover.

“If anyone gets carsick, now’s the time to tell me,” Silvan announced right as the road entered a steep uphill slant.

I was no stranger to mountain roads; my hometown had its fair share of elevated terrain that I’d spent years adjusting to. But even with my robust resistance to carsickness, I found my stomach sloshing angrily at the ridiculous repetitive turns we made up and down the Dominican mountains. Some of the turns were so sharp that Silvan had no choice but to honk his horn before taking them; there was no other way to tell if another car was sweeping around right as he was.

Still, once my stomach settled and I got into the rhythm of it, I was able to let go and just enjoy the ride for what it was. Dominican road trips may not be everyone’s cup of tea, but I intended to have fun on ours.

The wilderness surrounded us for the first portion of our drive, but eventually the road leveled off somewhat (at least as much as the road ever levels off in Dominica) and our car puttered into an inland village. It was small and had very few people milling about. There weren’t many houses at all, and the ones that were there stood on stilts and were made of cheap materials.

“Maria hit this place especially hard,” Silvan commented as we slowly drove through the town. “Most people were forced to leave. Too many homes got destroyed.”

That was when I realized: it wasn’t that there were so few houses, but rather that there were very few houses _left_. Empty concrete foundations lined a river that gurgled under a bridge ahead of us. It wasn’t a stretch of the imagination to picture a flood of debris, wind, and water slamming into the line of homes and sweeping them down the river. In fact, as we passed over the bridge, I could make out pieces of warped metal siding entrenched in the riverbed.

“What about the people who are still here?” Sam asked, eyes glued out the window.

“They were lucky enough to keep their homes,” Silvan replied. “But without power or resources, I doubt they will stick around for long. This village may not exist for much longer.”

We drove in silence as we let that sink in. I did tell Silvan I wanted all the gritty details, and he wasn’t disappointing me in the slightest.

The terrain turned rougher again as we climbed up the face of another mountain. The road here was worse for wear, with many potholes that Silvan had to slow down or swerve around to avoid. Right as we were approaching the peak of this mountain, a sign came into view on the road ahead. It read, “CAUTION: ROAD EDGE FAILURE AHEAD.”

“Road edge failure?” Dean read. “That’s ominous.”

“It means that part of the road has fallen away,” Silvan explained. “It’s very dangerous if you’re not paying attention. There were a lot of those left behind by the storm. A lot of roads are still closed from the damage; this is one of the few open to the public.”

The so-called “road edge failure” came into view then. It was situated on the outmost portion of a downwards curve, surrounded by metal barrels that had been painted in bright colors to alert drivers. Contained within the barrels was a gaping hole in the asphalt, leading to a straight drop down the mountainside.

My stomach fluttered in instinctual fear as we drove around it. I let out a breath of air I didn’t know I'd been holding in, and Silvan noticed. 

“Scary, isn’t it?” He smiled sympathetically at me in the rearview mirror. “Dominican roads are already wild enough without all these pitfalls. A lot of our bridges collapsed, too.”

“Maria did a lot,” I stated the obvious, trying to take it all in.

“That is the gist of it,” Silvan agreed.

“What can you tell us about the storm?” Sam asked, genuinely curious. “If we’re gonna be staying here, I think it’d be good to understand what happened.”

“I admire your willingness to explore that,” Silvan commended. “I can tell you all you want to know.”

“Just a general overview would be fine. We…didn’t hear much of anything about the storm in the states.”

“Alright, general overview it is, then.”

The four of us leaned slightly towards the driver’s seat, giving Silvan our full attention. He cleared his throat and, keeping his eyes on the road, dove into it.

“Dominica has weathered many tropical storms in the past,” he began. “But every once in a while, there’s a big one. The problem is, you never know which storm is going to be the next ‘big one.’ Everyone knew Maria was coming, but they didn’t know what she would do. Right before she reached our island, she turned into a category five.”

I winced. That was a hurricane at its deadliest, and to be hit by that without warning…

“I stayed with my family for the entire thing,” Silvan related. “We’d left our home, went to the local council building with a lot of other villagers. I didn’t see much, but the sounds…” A haunted look crossed his face. “I’ve never heard such power and destruction. It raged on through the entire night until daybreak. I hardly recognized Calibishie when I went outside.

“It was a mess. You could barely walk down the street, everything was strewn about and in pieces. Our home was swept off a cliff right into the ocean, along with everything in it. And my brother…” Grief welled in Silvan’s eyes, but he banished it, focusing on the road ahead. “He’d gone to the edge of the village to help a friend fortify his home. He went to the tsunami risk area, and…” He glanced at me over his shoulder. “You saw what Katrina did miles inland. Imagine what a hurricane could do to a low-lying place right by the ocean.”

I did imagine it, and it was horrifying.

“But that is just my side of the story,” Silvan moved on. “The entire island was in chaos for a time. People were looting and frenzying all over the place. There was no organization whatsoever. Cars were tangled in power lines, buildings were underwater…I heard that in Portsmouth, someone in a wheelchair was trapped in a tree for three days. There was no communication, you didn’t know who was alive or dead.”

The vivid images his descriptions painted in my mind were…disturbing, to say the least. They reminded me an awful lot of what I’d seen after Katrina, but that had been back in the states. Here in the Caribbean, what would be different?

“Relief was sent from some countries,” Silvan kept going. “But there was only so much they could do. Our government was spread thin trying to fix so many things at once…even eight months later, most places still do not have power. Rather than rely on them, most people banded together in their villages to get things fixed. We cleaned and rebuilt, supported each other through our losses as best we could. There is still much work to be done, and although we stand strong together, it will take much time to heal.”

His gaze darkened. “People are still worried. My mother once told me about another hurricane we weathered nearly forty years ago, hurricane David. He was just as devastating to us as Maria, and people banded together to rebuild and regroup after that as well. But one year later, hurricane Alan came through and undid most of the progress. Many Dominicans fear that history may repeat itself, and though I pray it doesn’t, there’s no way to know for sure.”

Frick. That was disheartening.

“Not to say that everything has been bad,” Silvan’s tone lightened. “Now that there are less trees covering the ground, people have more farmland to grow food for their families and businesses. People have bonded together more strongly than ever and everyone pitches in. Some have called Maria both a destroyer and a cleanser; in a way, she has given us a clean slate to work off of, although at great cost.”

That grief resurfaced in his eyes again but dissipated much quicker this time.

“I’m…” Dean hesitated. “I’m really sorry about your brother. I know what it’s like to lose family.” He glanced across the backseat at Sam, who returned his meaningful look.

“He died helping people,” Silvan replied, sad yet fond. “Andon was incredibly generous. He wouldn’t have wanted to go out any other way.”

“I’m certain his soul has a place in heaven,” Castiel said weightily.

Silvan gave him a funny look. “Huh. I’ve never been the religious type, but that’s comforting to hear.”

Our drive brought us through another village as we approached the opposite end of the island, closer to the sea. There were buildings strewn about across the hilly landscape and the road turned into a dirt path partway through the settlement. Just as the other places we’d seen, signs of Maria were everywhere. Tarps, downed power lines, tents and buildings broken into pieces, the works.

“Man,” Sam lamented. “I really wish we could do something to help here…this isn’t our usual kind of job, but it feels wrong to sit here doing nothing.”

“You can start by supporting the local economy,” Silvan replied as he pulled off to the side of the road. “If you want the full Dominica experience, you have to try Dominican street food.”

A food stand was set up on the roadside ahead of us. A table underneath the measly shade of a metal roof held several containers of food that a local woman was tending to.

It was nearly lunchtime, and I’d been hoping to try some more Caribbean cuisine while we were here, so I was more than happy to hop out of the car and follow Silvan to the stand. Sam and Dean gravitated towards the stand as well, surely hungry after all this time, but Castiel politely remained in the car since he wouldn’t need food.

Eyeing the contained food expectantly, Dean leaned right over the table. “What have you got?”

“A lot of things,” the woman replied, lifting a lid off one of the containers. “I have chicken wings, sweet potatoes, saltfish, ackee cakes, pig snouts, rice and beans– ”

“I’m sorry,” Dean held up a hand. “Did you just…say pig snouts?”

Both Silvan and the woman started laughing, exchanging a knowing look.

“Pig snouts are certainly local,” Silvan told Dean, still chuckling. “But they’re a little out there, even for me.”

“They’re an acquired taste,” the woman agreed. “You look like a man who has a taste for chicken, though.”

She was most certainly right, as Dean ended up asking for three chicken wings. Sam took a small Styrofoam box of saltfish and sweet potatoes, and I took a box of rice and beans and the ackee cakes, which were fried patties of a local minnow variety that turned out to be quite tasty. We paid the woman and returned to the car, driving off and carefully eating our lunch on the bumpy dirt road.

Past the outskirts of the village, the road followed the coastline. The ocean on this side of Dominica was much calmer than where we’d come from; the water only gently rippled against the shore. Within minutes, I was shocked to see not a village, but a city come into view ahead.

“That is Roseau,” Silvan introduced the settlement. “It’s our capital and also our largest city.”

Roseau was massive compared to the villages I’d gotten used to seeing. There were countless buildings packed together and made of materials other than concrete and metal, and even a few branded companies I recognized from back home. People milled about on the streets and sidewalks in larger numbers than I’d seen anywhere else. Boats ranging in size from dinghies to delivery ships were tied up at a port in the calm stretch of ocean.

Roseau also had another special feature that the rest of Dominica lacked: more traffic!

“Ai, ai, ai,” Silvan shook his head as the line of cars ahead of us started and stopped at random. “I always forget how bad the traffic here is.”

Vehicles moved along the roads at a near constant rate, which was otherwise unheard of in Dominica. There was still practically no traffic regulation, aside from the fact that a dividing line had been painted on the roads within the city limits. People rode in open truck beds and some even stood up through their car’s sunroof as it sped along.

Eventually, we did reach a place to park along a seawall partway into the city. Silvan put the car in park and turned to us.

“Like I said, I have some errands to run here,” he reminded us. “But while we’re here, feel free to explore. Be back here in about one hour, and then we’ll head back to the Villa.”

Confident that we’d gotten it, he leapt out of the car and we followed him. With a click of his key, the jeep locked, and Silvan waved at us before striding down one of the many streets between the rows and rows of businesses.

Castiel immediately teleported away to who knows where, still intent on being weird and distant. I told Sam and Dean that I was going to walk the seawall to be by the ocean, and they each set off down a different street to explore on their own.

My feet ended up carrying me back in the direction of the port. From the few docks that floated in the water, I could see far out over the ocean. Beside the docks in a shipyard-like area, there were piles upon piles of shipping containers stacked atop each other. I couldn’t tell if they were empty, but I walked between the maze of them for as long as I could before the weird looks the port workers kept giving me scared me off.

Back at the car, I leaned against the seawall and just waited for someone to return. Sam was the first to make his way back, a plastic bag dangling from his grasp.

“Found some snacks for us,” he explained, triumphantly holding up the bag.

Dean returned to us a while after that, seeming glad that he found us again.

“How’d your exploring go?” I asked, curious to see what he got up to.

“I got panhandled,” he grumbled. “But I did find a place with wi-fi.” His eyes fell to the bag in Sam’s hand. “Groceries?”

“Yeah, I found a place with some food down that way– ” Sam started to point out where he’d gone, but Dean interrupted him.

“Did you get…?” He made grabby hands for the bag.

Sighing and relinquishing the bag to Dean, Sam confirmed, “Yeah, I found some. It’s off-brand, but it’s all I could find.”

“You got the pie!” Dean cheerily proclaimed. “Atta boy, Sammy!”

Smiling and rolling his eyes at his brother’s antics, Sam refocused. “You said you found a place with wi-fi?”

Dean led the way to the mystical wi-fi place, which turned out to be a tiny French café not too far from the seawall. Sam immediately pulled out his phone once he was inside, intent on getting his internet fix.

Figuring I should take advantage of it while we had it, I pulled out my own phone and did some browsing. It started as just catching up on some of what I’d missed, but as I thought of what I should take care of while I had internet, I felt the urge to check up on something else.

Though I didn’t want to, I knew it might put my mind at ease, so I searched for the SPN Shapeshifter Mystery Masterpost again. I willed there to be no new updates, but of course, another addition had been made to the post since the last time I looked.

**UPDATE #2:**

_Another small breakthrough was made on the case recently. Through scouring travelling patterns, investigators now claim that they believe the suspects in this case came into Seattle from either Alaska or Montana. The debate over the conflicting evidence is raging even more strongly now as people contend over which travel path is more likely._

_There hasn’t been much else other than that, but this has only fueled the fandom’s speculation. Personally, I’m not even sure what to make of all this anymore. Some of the theories are getting out of hand. I saw one earlier today about it all being some massive prank or illusion caused by Gabriel, and I don’t think the poster was kidding. Really, guys? I think some people are just looking for any excuse to prove that their favorite archangel is still alive, even in the middle of this crisis._

_*ahem* Anyways, keep up your wild speculations. It’s basically fair game, so come up with whatever outlandish explanations you want; just don’t expect me or the investigation team to buy any of them._

Sighing, I shut down my phone. At least the investigators weren’t entirely sure of where we’d come from yet. If they figured out we’d been in Alaska and traced us back to the Noordam, we’d be toast.

After they’d had their dose of internet, Sam and Dean relented and went back to the car with me. Silvan rejoined us just a few minutes afterwards carrying several bags of various sizes and materials. Castiel walked up to us right on the top of the hour, wordlessly reclaiming his spot in the passenger seat.

Everyone’s stuff was stored in the trunk and we were ready to go. Silvan sped off through the outside of the city, dodging traffic as best as he could. We were free from any risk of traffic once we’d made it past the city’s borders, and from there it was a speedy, hilly shot back to the Villa. The drive lasted quite a while and I started to get rather sleepy, but just as I was dozing off the car came to a halt right in front of the Villa.

Unloading our stuff, we gladly reentered the Villa, ignoring Eve and Jack’s unrelenting barking. While Sam put away the groceries and Dean got a head start on his pie, I decided that it might be worthwhile to follow Castiel upstairs. If I could get the angel alone, maybe I could get some answers out of him…

I ascended the uneven stairs as quietly as I could, and it paid off. At the top I caught sight of Castiel glancing around as he approached his and Dean’s room, holding out a hand over the handle and working some kind of angel magic. The handle clicked and he turned the now unlocked door.

There was no time to waste. I bolted across the balcony on light feet and froze mid-step as soon as I could peer through the barely-open door.

What I saw confused me at first. The room looked mostly normal compared to how it had been, but as I craned my neck to look further in…there was stuff all of over the place; specifically, the stuff Castiel had been collecting since we’d gotten here.

Items were deliberately arranged on the mounted shelves, on top of the dresser, inside a towering, lean bookcase against the back wall, and basically wherever stuff could fit. I could see the huge brain coral pushed against the foot of the bed, the sea fan and coral pieces held standing upright by smooth stones on top of the dresser, the sand dollar proudly on display at the top of the bookshelf, and urchin skeletons and sea shells scattered on practically every surface. There were other items I didn’t even recognize thrown into the mix.

I just stood there and…stared for a while, trying to catch every little detail of the arrangement. Castiel was standing with his back turned, unloading what he’d gathered on the river from his pockets. Right as he turned back to close the door, he caught me looking around the room red-handed.

The angel stared at me with wide, fearful eyes for a few moments. “[Y-Y/N]. Um. I can explain.”

“ _This_ is why you didn’t want Dean in here?” I breathed out, stepping through the doorway and past a stunned angel.

“Y-you can’t be here,” Castiel insisted, though he didn’t make a move to remove me from the room now that I was inside it.

“Why not?” I calmly challenged, entranced as I circled the room and took in every thoughtfully-arranged detail. “This is so pretty!”

Wings ruffling, Castiel pulled himself together and rushed through shutting the door again. “Because it’s not done yet, I’ve only started–”

“You’ve just _started_?” I faced him, incredulous. “This is already so much!” I went back to admiring the room. “I was worried you might be hiding something sinister in here, but…this is just interior decorating. Frighteningly good interior decorating, but still!”

“Please don’t tell Dean.”

Castiel’s pleading voice broke me out of my trance. Forcing my gaze away from the room’s contents and towards the angel, I decided it was time to get some answers.

“Why are you keeping this from him?” I asked, gesturing to the room at large.

“Because…” Castiel looked frustrated. “He can’t know about it, not yet. He cannot see it until it’s complete.”

Knowing I wouldn’t get any further in that line of questioning, I tried another. “Why exactly are you doing this, anyways?

Frustration melting away, Castiel looked away from me. “I…don’t know.”

“You…don’t know?”

“I’m not sure why, I…” Castiel shut his eyes and stepped further into the room, obviously troubled. “Ever since you showed me that shell, I’ve felt this…urge to gather items and bring them back here.”

“So…you literally have a beachcombing addiction?”

“It’s not an addiction,” Castiel corrected. “It more like an instinct, something intrinsic I can’t ignore.”

Crossing towards the dresser, I scanned over the seashells until I found the original green and brown one, reaching towards it. “And this shell started it somehow?”

“Don’t touch that!” Castiel exclaimed, spinning around to grab my wrist. 

I was more than a little startled by his outburst, staring up at him and shrinking away. The angel’s face softened and he released my wrist, allowing me to back safely away from the shell.

“I…apologize,” Castiel said, extremely quiet. “I’ve deliberately placed every item here and I feel immensely protective of the arrangement.”

“It’s okay,” I replied, calming down. “Is that another instinct?”

Castiel meekly nodded his head. “The shell is what started all of this. When I saw it, something about its appearance reminded me so deeply of Dean, and I…” He ducked past me, blushing a little as he wandered about the room. “I’m not sure why exactly it is that I’m doing this, but I know that it’s for Dean, and that he cannot see it until it’s ready for him.”

Something clicked into place in my mind as it tried to explain this. “You know what this sounds like?”

Shaking his head, Castiel willed himself to face me again.

“Nesting behavior,” I finished. “Like in birds.”

Faint recognition glinted in Castiel’s eyes, but he squinted in confusion. “That makes sense, but…” His eyes darted about the room. “Why would I be…?”

Thinking through every possible explanation, I decided to double check, “You’re not, like…having a kid, right?”

“No,” Castiel immediately answered. “I am in a male vessel, that is impossible.”

“Just checking…” I mumbled. “I’ve heard that’s a thing in fanfics.”

“In what?”

“Nothing. Uh, is this something angels normally do?”

“Not that I know of,” Castiel replied, deep in thought. “Although, it’s worth considering that angels are very complex beings with buried behaviors and protocols left untouched for millennia. Sometimes these have been triggered by specific circumstances, though it’s usually a mass event and very rare.”

“Do you know of any that would cause an angel to…um, nest?”

Castiel appeared perplexed. “I’ve never heard of such a thing, but I suppose it’s within to reason to assume that it’s possible…”

“How would we find out?”

Frowning Castiel, replied, “This is usually the part where we would do research.”

Seeing as we didn’t have access to the bunker’s library, we may as well be out of luck. One idea did pop into my head, and though it was a longshot, it wouldn’t hurt to try.

“Stay right here,” I told Castiel, making for the door. “I’ll be right back.”

Hurrying after me, Castiel checked, “You’re not telling anyone else about my…um, nest, are you?”

“Of course not,” I promised. “My lips are sealed.”

Grinning at him reassuringly, I opened the door and stepped outside, carefully closing it behind me. Next door I found Sam huddled up in his study, reading a book about Dominican history.

“Hey Sam,” I greeted. “Is there any chance you still have those angel books from the Alaska incident?”

“I don’t think so,” Sam doubted. “But I can check.”

Rifling through his duffel, Sam pulled out a few articles of clothing until he reached the very bottom. His eyebrows rose in surprise as he peered into the bag.

“Huh,” he huffed. “I’ll be damned. I guess I never emptied it, they’re still in here.”

Sam pulled out the stack of books and handed them to me. Thanking him, I ran back to Castiel, knocking on the door so he’d know it was me.

Even in the small span of time I’d been gone, Castiel had added to his nest. The goldenrod feather was sticking out of an indentation on the sand dollar’s surface, the dried-out river moss was draped over the top of the doorway, and the leaves were scattered around on the floor.

I took special care to step over the minefield of leaves as I walked into the room. Castiel was standing on top of the bed when I entered, fiddling with the bug net. He’d rearranged the white drapery so that instead of falling around the perimeter of the mattress in a square curtain, it was pinched over the middle of the bed, falling over it in the shape of a cozy teepee.

“It just felt right to make it look this way,” Castiel tersely explained before I could ask. He climbed down from the bed and eyed the books curiously. “Where did you find those?”

“Sam still had them,” I answered, passing half of the stack to him. “Looks like it’s research time.”

Research time lasted about an hour while we poured over the tomes. We each took our time with the most promising ones, Castiel reading one about angelic behavior and muttering comments about “blatant inaccuracies” the whole time. I stuck to a simple book about angel physiology, and though I wasn’t finding what I was looking for, I learned an awful lot about angelkind.

Something promising did pop up in the chapter about angel physiology on earth. The word “nesting” caught my eye and I immediately honed in on the section it was under.

“Listen to this,” I said, waiting for Castiel to look away from his own book and pay attention. “’Claims of Nesting: although highly contested among the small community of angel researchers, ancient texts have repeatedly alluded to a nesting behavior demonstrated by angels in biblical times. The consensus seems to be that this is caused by extended exposure to earth, as well as the presence of a committed lover in the angel’s life (most commonly, a human).’”

Castiel’s eyes went wide as I read the page to him. “That must be it.”

I kept reading. “’Definitive evidence of this unusual behavior has yet to show itself, although those who believe it to exist claim that as in many buried angelic instincts, highly specific circumstances must be present in order for it to emerge. This series of required circumstances make this supposed behavior quite rare and difficult to track or prove. Ancient writings, however reliable or unreliable they may be, point to a commonality between a given angel’s nesting behavior and a certain genus of bird’s nesting behavior (see Figure 12.8).’”

“What does figure 12.8 show?” Castiel asked, moving closer to read the book with me.

“It looks like one of the ancient texts,” I observed. “But…I don’t even know what language this is written in.”

Castiel squinted at the image. “It speaks of an angel named Apollyon who took a human as a partner and built a nest in the exact fashion that a pompadour cotinga would…” Pulling away suddenly, Castiel recalled, “Apollyon was one of the angels who sided with Lucifer and was consequently cast out from heaven. It’s not a stretch to imagine fallen angels walking the earth for long enough that they come to embody its wavelengths and begin to imitate its creatures…but what would the purpose of such a protocol be?”

I shrugged. “Maybe to help fallen angels live out an earthlier life? Or maybe as a way to help with producing Nephilim, if they were ever needed.”

“Or it may just be a complete accident,” Castiel added. “I suppose I am technically a fallen angel, and I have been on earth for a comparatively long time…and as a result of intermingling with the wavelengths of nature, I may have inadvertently taken on the instincts of one of its creatures, and some set of circumstances made them apparent.”

“But which one?” I wondered, setting aside the book now that we had our information. “What kind of bird are you taking after?”

“I’m not sure,” Castiel admitted. “If it would help narrow it down at all, I have found myself especially drawn to items of the color blue. I haven’t had much luck finding anything other than the ocean itself, which I obviously can’t bring back to this room.”

It was a good clue, but I didn’t know enough about birds for it to help much. “Anything else?”

“I’ve also had a similar attraction to green items, but that is more of a conscious choice. I’ve always associated the color green with Dean, so…”

There had to be a way to narrow this down more… “Do you think you’re taking after a bird here on the island? That would make the most sense.”

Castiel nodded, though his expression was clouded by doubt. “Logically, yes. But thinking in terms of wavelengths, it could be a bird from anywhere on this planet. Distance does little to characterize wavelengths; appearance and conditions are more important.”

At least that was _something_ to work with. “I’ll see what I can find.” I glanced at the teepee-shaped bug net. “’Cause you’re doing some…interesting stuff with your nesting arrangements.”

Nodding, Castiel began gathering the books back into their stack.

“But in the meantime…” I took a breath. “I think you need to go talk to Dean.”

Castiel paused in the middle of closing a tome, sighing and shutting his eyes. “I have wanted to, but he is clearly upset with me. I am not sure how to approach him without angering him further.”

“You guys have handled conflicts before!” I encouraged.

“Not like this…” Castiel trailed off sadly.

“I can’t stand to see you two like this,” I lamented. “How about this: what if I go and talk to Dean, and get him to approach you?”

That idea made Castiel’s feathers twitch with worry. “Don’t tell him about the nest.”

“I won’t! I’ll just tell him that you’re up here and want to talk. I’ll even stand by for moral support if you want.”

Considering it, Castiel decided, “Alright. But he is going to want an explanation for what I’ve been doing, and I can’t tell him yet.”

“You don’t have to,” I soothed. “You guys will work things out, you always do.”

Though still uncertain, Castiel sighed and nodded his head. “I’ll wait outside for him. I want this miscommunication to come to an end.”

I led the way out the door, waiting for Castiel to close and lock it behind us. Leaving the angel with assurances that I would be back, I trotted downstairs in search of Dean. I found the hunter inside the kitchen with a mostly empty container of pie. He was watching the beginning of the sunset through the open window, chewing thoughtfully.

Noticing my presence, Dean swallowed what was presumably a bite of pie and grinned at me. “What can I do for you, kiddo?”

I took a deep breath. “Dean…you need to go talk to Cas.”

Dean frowned and looked down bitterly at the pie tin. “He hasn’t wanted to see or talk to me all day.”

“He was looking for you last night,” I divulged. “He was pretty upset you went to bed without him.”

Frown slowly disappearing as he took in this information, Dean countered, “What’s the point? He’s probably holed up in that room behind a locked door.”

“Actually, I just got through talking with him,” I corrected. “He’s waiting for you upstairs.”

Though he didn’t look like he fully bought that, Dean wanted to believe it. He abruptly scooted his chair across the floor and stood up. “Why is it that you’re always the one mopping up my relationship problems?” he muttered, shaking his head and departing from the kitchen.

Smiling after him, I said, “Winggirl duties don’t end once the couple you’re rooting for gets together.”

Waiting until Dean had climbed most of the stairs, I quietly followed him, taking two steps at a time to keep up. At the very top I peeked out and saw that he’d just caught sight of Castiel waiting across the darkening balcony. The angel looked at Dean uncertainly, his wings perking up as he got closer.

Raising his arms and letting them clap back against his sides, Dean started out with, “[Y/N] said you were ready to talk.”

“Yes,” Castiel awkwardly acknowledged. “I…want to clear up this misunderstanding between us.”

Dean sighed, half out of relief and half out of lingering frustration. “Good. So do I.”

Now that that was established, Castiel relaxed somewhat. “I realize that I was much too curt with you yesterday. I’m…” he glanced back at the doors to their room, “…working on something in our room, and I didn’t want you to see it.”

“What have you been doing in there?”

Castiel looked pained. “I…can’t tell you.”

Dean looked ready to erupt with a retort to that, but Castiel held up a placating hand and he unwillingly held it in.

“What I’m doing is…it’s complicated,” Castiel sighed. “And you can’t be around it, not yet. In due time you’ll find out, I promise.”

“When has keeping secrets _ever_ gone well for us, Cas?” Dean demanded.

“This isn’t a secret. It’s more of a surprise.”

“How do I know you’re not doing some…some…” He gesticulated towards the shuttered door. “I dunno, some angel hoodo ritual or…something you’re doing based on good intentions that will backfire without a human moral compass to guide you?”

“I have a human moral compass.” Castiel glanced at me where I hid at the top of the stairs. “All I’m asking is for you trust me, Dean. This is just something that I have to do, and I’m not entirely sure how to explain it.”

Bristling, Dean crossed his arms and mumbled, “It’s kinda hard to trust you when you shut me out and lock the door behind you with no warning.” A bitter laugh caught in his throat. “I’ll tell you what, Cas, you are really good at making a guy feel unwanted in record time.”

Sadness welled in Castiel’s eyes, followed by understanding. “Dean…you’re never unwanted. I didn’t mean for you to feel…”

Castiel faltered when Dean looked back up at him. Shame colored the angel’s face.

“I didn’t mean to make it seem like I didn’t want you around,” Castiel explained. “I just didn’t want you in that particular room, and you caught me off guard.” He looked off towards the ocean, too ashamed to meet Dean’s gaze. “I shouldn’t have done it the way I did. You already struggle to feel worthy enough on your own without me contributing to that. I’m sorry, Dean.”

Slowly but surely, the fight drained out of Dean’s stance. Heaving a breath, he said, “It’s okay, Cas. I thought I did something that made you angry at me, but…” He took on a more self-assured tone. “Now I’m just not sure how I feel about you hiding what you’re doing in that room.”

“It’s nothing you need to worry about,” Castiel assured. “What I’m doing in there…it’s for you.”

“For me?” Dean needed confirmation.

“Yes, for you,” Castiel nodded. “But you’re not allowed to see it until I’ve deemed it ready.”

“What, is it like…” Dean snorted. “A sex dungeon or something?”

“…How could I make a dungeon out of a room on the second floor of a building?” Refocusing, Castiel denied, “It’s nothing like that. I’d like to think of it as an intimate but tasteful gesture.”

“…Dammit, now you’ve got me really curious. When can I see it?”

“I’m…not sure. Putting it together is proving to be more art than science. I would estimate it may be days before it is complete.”

“ _Days_?” Dean demanded. “Where am I supposed to sleep? Am I even gonna get to see you?”

“I won’t be working on it all the time,” Castiel assured. “I want to spend time with you…last night I was going to recommend that we sleep in the bedroom downstairs, but you had already gone to bed…”

Dean must’ve seen just how regretful his angel looked then, because he slumped somewhat. “Let’s try not to miscommunicate like this anymore, okay?”

Hopeful eyes darted up to meet Dean’s. “Absolutely. I’m truly sorry about all this, I should’ve come to you sooner.”

“Same here…all’s forgiven.” Even looking at him from behind, I could tell Dean was smiling by his voice alone.

A grin formed on Castiel’s face, growing until he was nearly beaming. He took a hesitant step forward, his wings angling towards Dean.

Dean was quick to catch on to what he wanted, opening his arms up. “C’mon, bring it in.”

Leaping at the opportunity, Castiel buried himself in Dean’s embrace, sighing happily and wrapping his own arms around Dean’s back. His wings entered the physical realm with a flash of grace and joined his arms, pulling Dean even closer. They stayed wrapped up in each other until the sun made its final dip below the blue horizon.

“Missed you,” Dean mumbled as he pulled back just enough to look Castiel in the eye.

“It was only one day, Dean,” Castiel pointed out, but he looked like he reflected the sentiment.

“Doesn’t matter. Missed you.”

Overcome with the sappiness of it all, Dean leaned in for a kiss and Castiel met him halfway. Blue grace glowed into existence where their lips met, and I did a double take when I noticed it. 

“Mmf,” Dean hummed as the kiss gently ended. “Been way too long since you last gave me a grace kiss.”

“There will plenty more where that came from,” Castiel promised.

Grace kiss? I know I hadn’t been present for every little development in their relationship, but that was definitely something I intended to keep in mind.

“I’m already gettin’ sleepy,” Dean yawned out.

“That may be my grace affecting you,” Castiel informed him. “I used a pretty large amount just now.”

“Nah, that’s not it. It’s ‘cause it’s already dark. The sun sets so early around here, I swear…” He cast a sweeping gaze over the view, though there wasn’t much to be seen in the darkness.

Pulling away slightly, Castiel regarded Dean knowingly. “Or are you just indicating sleepiness because you’re too shy to ask me directly for cuddles?”

Even in the darkness, I could see the blush on Dean’s face. “Maybe…” he mumbled.

“You shouldn’t be,” Castiel gently replied. “But we can go to bed now if you would like.”

The pair separated from each other but simultaneously reached out to take each other’s hands as they headed towards the staircase. Right about then I realized they were also heading straight towards my hiding spot.

I sprinted down the stairs on featherlight feet, reaching the bottom just as Dean and Castiel reached the top. Taking a moment to catch my breath, I scrambled to sit myself down in a chair on the pool deck, assuming the most casual pose I could.

“What’s the rush?” asked a voice from the kitchen.

Sam was standing in the kitchen doorway, and he’d seen the whole thing. Flushing from mild embarrassment, I didn’t even have a chance to explain myself before Dean and Castiel descended the stairs hand in hand. Both Sam and I watched as they headed towards the spare bedroom on the far side of the Villa’s first floor.

Castiel glanced back at me and sent a look my way that showed more gratitude than words could ever hope to. I nodded back at him, encouraging him to keep going.

Once the pair were within the room and the door snapped closed behind them, Sam huffed a relieved laugh. “So they’re good?”

Grinning and still staring after them, I airily replied, “They’re good.”

Satisfied that they’d worked things out, Sam grabbed a water bottle off the kitchen table and went to the stairs so he could return to his room. I was starting to feel pretty sleepy myself, but rather than call it a night, I decided to see what other cuteness the otters would get up to that night…

The hammock was conveniently tied up just outside their new bedroom, so I silently perched myself there and reclined into the swaying hold of its fabric. None of the windows to the room were shuttered, and I could easily peer between the slats to get a pretty clear view of what was going on inside.

…Yeah okay, maybe this eavesdropping/observing thing was a little stalker-ish and creepy. But both of them had been aware of it at different times in the past and apparently been okay with it, so I doubted they’d especially mind now. It wasn’t like they were doing anything _super_ private.

The first movement I saw in the room was Dean emerging from the bathroom in his pajamas. Castiel must’ve brought all their stuff down there since this was going to be a rather long-term arrangement, I realized. Dean glanced across the room at Castiel, who was removing his shoes, and looked him up and down.

“I know you’re comfortable wearing your usual get-up to bed, but…” he trailed off, scratching at the back of his neck. “If we’re gonna be, uh, cuddling, all that is gonna overheat me.”

Looking down at himself, Castiel murmured, “I’ve gotten used to lying in bed while wearing this…”

“At least lose the trench coat,” Dean requested, and though hesitant, Castiel complied.

Now left with just his suit, Castiel carefully folded his coat and placed it atop the room’s dresser. He was the first one to climb into bed, breaking in the fresh blankets and sheets and arranging the pillows into a more comfortable position.

Watching him fondly, Dean flipped off the lights and slipped in beside him. Though the lack of light made it more difficult to see what was going on, I knew my eyes would adjust and took in what I could.

“I’m assuming that my wings should still not be involved,” Castiel guessed. “Seeing as you’re concerned about overheating tonight.”

“Yeah, it’s still too hot for that,” Dean replied, disappointment weighing his voice. “But don’t be afraid to get close otherwise.”

Humming to himself, Castiel started shifting through the covers. My eyes could just barely make out the two shapes under the blankets facing each other and pulling themselves together. Castiel did his patented kitten nuzzle™ into the crook of Dean’s neck, earning ticklish laughter from the hunter.

Utterly at peace, Dean sighed out, “I was gettin’ worried we wouldn’t do this again for a while. Dunno what I would have done…”

“You poor little human,” Castiel dryly pitied, utilizing his own learned form of sarcasm. “How did you ever cope last night?”

“I did alright,” Dean sighed. “Had a night terror, but…”

One of the two, I assumed Castiel, tensed up.

“What?” Dean asked.

“You had a night terror?” Castiel quietly demanded.

“Yeah, but it was just because it was so hot in that study, and I wasn’t used to being alone-”

Castiel cut him off. “Dean, I’m…so sorry. I should have been there.”

Sighing loudly, Dean gently replied, “S’no big deal, Cas, I used to have ‘em all the time. It’s not your fault anyways.”

The two lumps under the blankets shifted quite a bit then, Castiel pulling away from Dean and laying on his back. “Come here, Dean.”

Though he hesitated a moment, Dean did schooch over towards Castiel’s side. The angel latched onto him, pulling him partway on top of his vessel and holding him close. Dean relaxed after a few moments, letting himself sink into his angel’s embrace.

“I promise that no night terrors will reach you tonight,” Castiel murmured. “You can rest easy.”

Humming drowsily, Dean mumbled, “Too good to me, honestly…”

A smack emanated from the room as Castiel kissed Dean on the forehead, resting his chin atop the hunter’s head. “Sleep well, human.”

Already half-asleep, Dean replied, “Y’too, angel.”

They’d only just resolved their conflict minutes ago and were already right back to giving me cavities with their cuteness. Two full-grown angsty men should not be able to act that adorably, but here they were, doing it anyways. They had a real talent for channeling their inner otter.

Pleased with the evening’s events, I went upstairs to my own room and prepared for bed. Certain that I would sleep well now that all our most pressing conflicts had been resolved, I got into bed and let the sounds of the ocean wash over me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since we're getting further into explorin' Dominica, thought I'd go ahead and put up a lil' disclaimer about my experiences on the island and my attempts to portray it:
> 
> I’ve strived to portray Dominica as positively yet accurately as possible in this story, but if anyone feels that I’ve misrepresented the culture, people, environment, etc., don’t hesitate to let me know so I can improve. I doubt many people reading this have actually been to Dominica, but on the off chance that you have, feedback would be much appreciated. I’ve visited the island twice in my life and spent a grand total of a month’s worth of time there, so I suppose I’m a semi-reputable source of info. That being said, I’m still an American girl who has spent most of her life in the states, and even if I’m well-travelled, my perceptions might not be 100% accurate.
> 
> Don’t be mistaken: Dominica is a developing country very unlike what I suspect a lot of readers are used to, but it’s a lovely place in its own right. It’s got great food, scenery, and my _goodness_ are the people nice! I met so many amazing people there who taught me a lot about the culture, crafts, and impact of hurricane Maria. Much of Silvan’s and Danny’s dialogue is taken directly from or heavily inspired by things my Dominican friends said to me. I learned so much while I was there, and I hope that I’ve been able to put that knowledge to good use in this story.
> 
> Photo of Dominican river: https://live.staticflickr.com/2347/2097575947_3ca06efb68_z.jpg
> 
> Photo of Roseau: https://dominicanewsonline.com/news/wp-content/uploads/2014/07/roseau-street-642x426.jpg


	5. In which you add a new ship to your fleet, Dean unleashes his inner nerd, Cas is a dad friend, and Sam’s OTP is Destiel

_5/27/18_

The chirping of the birds roused me at the ripe hour of friggin’ 6:30 AM the next morning. Forget Dominica just resetting my internal clock; the island was entirely rewriting my sleep schedule. If I woke up at 5:30 tomorrow morning, that was when I’d put my foot down.

As it would figure, Sam was the first person to greet me when I descended downstairs. He looked incredibly chipper and awake, and for once, I felt much the same at that hour.

“Gee, what’s got you up this early?” I joked.

“Silvan’s started taking me on his early morning walks with Eve and Jack,” Sam told me, looking thrilled. “They’re warming up to me. I can’t quite pet them yet, but they don’t bark at me whenever they see me, so that’s progress.”

Looked like Sam still hadn’t gotten his dog fix yet. If befriending two vicious, boisterous guard dogs was what would make him happy on this trip, he could go ahead by all means.

I passed the first couple hours of my bright and early morning by reading the rest of the D&D books in my room. I’d nearly managed to forget about them, but I was dead set on us playing a round of the game sooner rather than later now that all our interpersonal conflicts had been dealt with.

Just as I was skimming the last section about different spells that players could cast, Castiel climbed the stairs. He was headed in the direction of his WIP nest, and I abandoned my books for the time being to catch up with him.

“Good morning, Cas!” I greeted him, catching him by surprise as he fumbled with the lock to his door.

“G-good morning, [Y/N],” he politely replied. “I was…just going to check on the…” His eyes darted towards the first floor over the edge of the balcony. “The thing that I can’t name.”

“I gotcha,” I said with a wink. “You gonna do any more beachcombing this morning?”

“I was considering it,” Castiel admitted. “The urge to gather things has not abated in the slightest.”

Since I didn’t have much of anything else to do that morning, I decided to ask, “Could I help?”

Castiel looked at me quizzically.

“With gathering things. Probably not arranging stuff, because you’re really protective of that, but…”

The angel looked like he was going to refuse, but he thought about it for a moment and changed his mind. “I suppose…there is no harm in seeking outside assistance with gathering the items.”

“Great!” I chirped. “Where are you thinking of going?”

“I was going to investigate the tidepools by our local beach,” Castiel said, gazing out towards the peninsula. “And perhaps the other side of the peninsula since it is currently low tide.”

“I’m up for that,” I said, glowing with confidence. “I used to be a bigtime tidepool hopper when I was little.”

Though a little confused by my terminology, Castiel patiently nodded and led the way downstairs and out the front door. The two of us took the trail down the side of the property into the sparse woods. The winds weren’t howling quite as badly on the peninsula today, so I didn’t make a total fool of myself traversing the carved, rocky terrain towards the tidepools.

Castiel was right about it being low tide. Compared to our first visit, the water level had fallen by a lot; instead of one large, deep pool carved into the ground, there were several smaller pools separated by islands and paths of land. I carefully balanced as I walked between them, putting my tidepool hopping skills to good use whenever there was a gap.

There were lots of tiny fish in the pools today, as well as some sergeant major fish stranded in the pool closest to the ocean’s edge. Sea urchins poked out of crevices like landmines and snails clung to any vaguely damp surface in clusters. Slick sea moss poked out of the shallow areas, providing shelter to limpets and hermit crabs.

The majority of the treasures at the tidepools were alive, so we couldn’t take them. I did find a sea urchin skeleton with all its spines intact, which Castiel carefully stowed in one of his trench coat’s pockets for safekeeping. The angel was highly focused in his beachcombing efforts, scanning every inch of ground in sight and leaning down to see what he could gather. He seemed fascinated by the creatures he came across, contentedly watching them from the edges of the pools. I was particularly impressed when he found a couple of tube worms attached to the side of a tidepool.

Despite his beachcombing prowess, Castiel only found a few things worth taking from the tidepools. A couple of colorful striped limpet shells were added to his pockets, and as we were about to head to the opposite side of the peninsula, Castiel paused to examine something clinging to a rock on the path.

It turned out to be a large, speckled crab. I expected it to dart away when Castiel reached towards it, but to my surprise, the angel lifted it up, proving that it was a hollow, perfectly intact shell.

After carefully sliding that into one of his pockets, Castiel and I climbed the peak of the peninsula and lowered ourselves down the other side. A rocky beach lined this side of the landmass, rife with round stones smoothed by the surf. Many small items were nestled among the cracks between the stones, and Castiel and I set about dislodging them to dig for treasure.

A small speck of blue peeked out from underneath one of the stones I overturned. Knowing that Castiel was seeking blue items, I instinctively reached for it. Castiel happened to be pulling up a rock beside me, and he dropped the stone with a loud clunk when he saw what I was doing.

“[Y/N], do not touch that!” Castiel fretted. “It’s glass, it could hurt you.”

Retracting my hand and peering down at the blue shape, I realized he was right; it _was_ a shard of glass. However, it wasn’t just any glass, but rather a specific type that I’d learned about in my prior beachcombing experience.

“It’s alright, Cas, it won’t hurt me,” I calmed him down, picking up the blue shard. “It’s sea glass.”

Squinting at the shard, Castiel still didn’t seem to fully trust it anywhere near my fingers.

I ran a finger over the smoothed-out edge of the glass to demonstrate. “See? The ocean wore it down, so now it’s just pretty.”

The angel finally accepted that, eagerly taking the sea glass and adding it to his pocket. “Thank you for finding this, it’s one of the only blue objects I have so far.” He observed me with concern. “But please be careful when you reach for pieces of glass in the future. Ensure they’re sea glass before you touch them.”

Chuckling as I stood up in search of a new spot to search, I teased, “You really are like an overprotective dad, aren’t you?”

Unsure what to make of my comment, Castiel went back to jostling rocks around. Now I had an inkling of how Claire Novak felt; although I wasn’t sure if Castiel had met Claire due to the altered timeline that occurred from my presence in their world. If not, I hoped they would encounter each other at some point.

There were a few other pieces of sea glass embedded in the shore, some blue, some brown, and some green. Castiel happily accepted those and added them to his pocket. Perhaps the best find of the entire excursion occurred at the far end of the beach: facedown in the measly sand under some rocks was a spiral shell with a pearly white interior. It looked to be entirely intact, so I pulled it free of the ground…and gasped.

The shell was essentially a larger, brighter version of the original periwinkle shell that had triggered Castiel’s nesting instincts. Predominantly brown with vibrant green stripes, it had a few patches on its surface that had been worn away by time to reveal a layer underneath that looked just like moonstone. In short, it was gorgeous.

I _had_ to show this to Castiel.

“Cas, you have to look at this!”

Castiel strolled towards me, toting a massive black shell as large as his palm. “What did you find?”

Without saying a word, I held up what I’d found for him to see. His eyes went wider than I’d ever seen them before as he examined the shell’s surface. He was utterly enamored, automatically reaching out to take it from my fingers.

“This is…” Castiel couldn’t seem to find the words, so instead he just summarized his thoughts in a single name. “ _Dean_.”

Smiling as the angel turned the shell around in his hands, I observed, “Reminds you of him, doesn’t it?”

“Very much,” Castiel immediately answered.

Both of us knew we couldn’t hope to top that find, so we climbed back up the peninsula and headed towards the forest. Castiel didn’t put his green shell away in his pocket with the rest of his spoils; instead, he kept it tightly gripped in the palm of his hand on the whole walk back. Every once in a while, he would open the cradle of his fingers to check on it. Aside from stopping to collect some fallen hibiscus blossoms and purple orchids, he seemed most focused on getting the shell back to the Villa.

It wasn’t until we were safely back in his bedroom behind a locked door that Castiel let go of the shell. Emptying his various spoils onto the bed, the angel set about arranging the new additions to his nest. I stepped aside and watched the process with curiosity.

The magnificent crab shell was placed hanging from the edge of a shelf, posed so that it appeared to be alive. The new shells were strewn among the many other shells on top of the dresser, the spiny urchin was placed in the bookcase, and the sea glass was stuck through the holes of the bug net so that it had splashes of blue, brown, and green color throughout its white surface. All of the flowers were spread along the headboard like romantic petals, and that only left the grand green shell.

Several minutes of organizing and reorganizing was devoted to figuring out the perfect place for that shell. Castiel put it in several different spots on top of the dresser, stepping back to pensively examine the collection for a few moments before diving back in and switching shells around again. Finally, he found a pattern that he liked that had the green shell in the very center surrounded by swirling patterns of the other shells.

Phew. I was exhausted just watching him fret over all these details. Nestmaking was hard work.

“It looks great so far, Cas,” I complimented, admiring the attention to detail.

“It’s still far from complete,” Castiel fretted. “I can only hope that Dean will like it.”

“He’ll love it!” I encouraged. “He may be a little confused, but…when he figures out what it is and what it means, he’ll love it.”

Smiling gratefully at me for the reassurances, Castiel guided me out of the room and locked it behind him. Just as we reached the bottom of the staircase, Silvan emerged from the basement carrying a reusable bag.

“There you two are!” he called to us. “We’re going to the Portsmouth market this morning for your excursion. The brothers are already waiting in the car.”

Had we really been gone that long? Amazing how time becomes an insignificant afterthought when you’re at the beach.

Castiel and I climbed into the backseat alongside Dean. Both he and Sam turned to look at us as we responsibly buckled ourselves in.

“Look who finally decided to show up,” Dean quipped. “Where were you two off frolicking?”

“Tidepools,” I answered casually. “Found some neat shells.”

Shaking his head but grinning, Dean mused, “Still into beachcombing, you two?”

Getting a little nervous, Castiel quietly confirmed, “Yes, very much so.”

None the wiser, Dean fell back into his seat. Silvan slipped behind the wheel just a few seconds later, and we were off towards the market.

The drive there took us through the typical rainforests and unsteady mountain roads. Only a few cars passed by us on the way down, but as we were taking an especially long turn around a mountain, Silvan slowed down and our pace fell to a crawl.

“What gives?” Dean asked lightheartedly; apparently, he had been enjoying the ride.

“There are workers up ahead,” Silvan explained.

Right on cue, a group of men and women clad in hardhats and bright, reflective clothing came into view on the roadside. An electrical truck was pulled as far off the road as it could be, surrounded by traffic cones. Several of the people were working with the downed powerlines while others were clearing up debris from the side of the road.

Silvan gave them a couple of friendly honks as the jeep crept past. The workers looked up at us and waved, beaming.

Returning their friendly faces and waves, Silvan rolled down a window and called, “Keep up the good work!”

All of them called back in affirmation, cheering after our car until we were out of sight.

Wearing a wide smile, Silvan told us, “Those are relief workers. Some people from other islands volunteer to come here and help locals patch things up.”

“That’s great!” Sam huffed out, craning his neck out the passenger window to try and look back at the relief workers. “Is there…any way we could maybe…do something like–”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Silvan promised, flashing a grin at him.

I had to agree with Sam; it would be great to actually help with the recovery process…

While I passed the time pondering different ways to get involved, the jeep puttered along until we reached the coast again. Just when I was starting to wonder if we would ever reach our destination, Portsmouth came into view.

Portsmouth was another city on the island of Dominica, situated right along the northwest coast with clusters of buildings. As its name suggested, it was indeed a port with many boats anchored out in the semi-enclosed harbor. It was more spread out than Roseau, but it had nearly as much traffic.

Our car got caught in a small traffic jam as we entered the middle of the city. Though it slowed us down, it also gave us a good look at the state of the city. The majority of buildings appeared to be standing, but many of them had outstanding structural damage. Stains and water damage covered many homes, and I grimaced at the memories of mildew that had ravaged houses following Katrina.

Despite the lingering traces of damage to the city, it was full of life. People walked the sidewalks and storefronts blasted loud music to attract customers. Chickens were especially prevalent here, pecking around those buildings deemed too broken to be salvaged and reclaiming them for nature. Construction was taking place in many areas to repair the damage that was deemed fixable.

All of that was nothing compared to the market. Booths and stands chocked full of produce and goods lined the streets. Many people had set up shop underneath a concrete pavilion by the water’s edge, and the whole sprawl was thrumming with energy as people milled about. Roosters crowed and sellers announced their wares to passerby. The entire place smelled of fresh food.

“Feel free to get whatever you want,” Silvan told us as he unfolded his shopping bag. “Just make sure you try some local ice cream before you leave.”

Before any of us could ask where the alleged ice cream was, Silvan was scurrying off to the first booth he could find, inquiring about buying a carton of eggs. Our group meandered about the market after that, vaguely sticking together but occasionally breaking off to visit a particular stand. At some point, someone from a booth called me over and convinced me to buy a bottle of local sea moss juice. I barely thought about what I’d bought until I was walking away with the drink in hand.

I was wary of the frothy white beverage, but gave it a taste anyways since it was a local concoction. Thinking back to the moss I’d seen growing in the tidepools that morning, I was mostly expecting it to just taste like salty, pureed ocean plant, but it actually turned out to be delicious. It tasted sweet and milky and had an odd slippery, foamy texture that really hit the spot.

My other companions all picked a little something, too. Sam snagged a bundle of fresh vegetables which Dean promptly labelled rabbit food, Castiel bought a few lovely-smelling herbs from the back of a truck, and Dean located the elusive ice cream vendor. Everyone was particularly delighted by that last one.

Since I didn’t have any bets or leverage against Dean this time, I let him order the ice cream without adopting an over-the-top persona. The woman running the booth personally recommended the local flavor of cherry coconut, so that’s what we all ended up getting.

Sam and I each just got a cone with a single scoop, while Dean got a cone with two scoops. After he sampled a taste and appeared to greatly enjoy the flavor, he held out the creamy treat to Castiel.

“I wouldn’t want to take any of your ice cream away from you,” Castiel politely declined.

Dean rolled his eyes. “I got a double serving for _both_ of us, you dork. I know you love sharing food.”

Regarding the ice cream with more significance, Castiel smiled. “That was very thoughtful of you, Dean.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean chuckled. “Just try it, this flavor’s actually pretty good.”

So, while the two of them shared their cone, our procession moved through the rest of the marketplace, hurrying to lap up our ice cream before it melted in the tropical heat. We ran into Silvan waiting outside an enclosed area at the very edge of the market. He waved us towards him, and as we got closer…the smell hit.

Fish have an incredibly distinctive smell to them, one that I had learned to recognize and even appreciate in my years at sea. That being said, I fully understood why many people couldn’t stand the scent of them.

Castiel’s face scrunched up as the smell hit him, but it didn’t appear to bother him. Sam and Dean on the other hand were not at all fans of the stench.

“I figured I should pick up some fish while I’m here,” Silvan explained when we joined him. “Any of you have a favorite Caribbean fish to eat?”

“Mahi mahi!” I immediately piped up.

“Good choice,” Silvan commended with a twinkle in his eye. He stepped under the enclosed area and called to one of the people inside, “I’ll take two pounds of mahi!”

One of the vendors pulled the massive fish out of a cooler and…well, I’ll spare the details. I’ll just say it involved a lot of chopping and fileting and that it was a good thing we’d already eaten our ice cream.

I’d observed fish markets from a distance before and even helped filet a couple of fish in my life, so the sight wasn’t that big of a deal to me. Castiel was perplexed but unbothered by the sight, while Sam and Dean…I heard at least one of them gagging from behind me.

“Oh, c’mon,” I whispered to them. “You guys literally decapitate vampires.”

“Vampires don’t smell!” Dean shout-whispered back, hiding his face in his sleeve. “Not like this, bleh…”

Once our portion of mahi was stored away in Silvan’s bag with some icepacks, our shopping spree was over. Silvan herded us back towards the jeep with our food in tow, and we drove back the way we came. The trip to the market was apparently all Silvan had planned for today, because we pulled back into Calibishie before long.

“That was it for today?” Sam checked.

“All I had planned,” Silvan offhandedly replied. “Not every day is going to be jam-packed. Only other thing on my schedule is making dinner from some of the stuff I got at the market.”

That certainly pleased everyone. Silvan had proven to be an excellent cook, and we were more than happy to sample another meal from him.

Back at the Villa, I wasn’t really sure what to do with myself. It was only the afternoon, and even with Dominica’s early sunset we had hours of daylight left. So I went to my default action whenever water was nearby: I watched the ocean from the balcony.

Several minutes of this passed until Sam’s heavy footsteps crossed the wooden floor to join me. We didn’t say anything for a while, instead letting the roaring waves below do all the talking.

“You thought about it some more?” Sam casually broke the silence.

I knew what he was talking about, but I really did not want to acknowledge it. “Not as much as I should be…” I admitted.

“You still haven’t thought of anything yet?” Sam sounded somewhat disappointed, and he must have noticed my face fall because he added, “We still have time! It’s just…we need a plan sooner rather than later.”

“I know,” I mumbled, suddenly feeling miserable. I’d managed to distract myself from this dire situation to the point that I’d nearly forgotten it. Although it was irresponsible…it was exactly what I’d been striving for.

“Do you have any ideas?” I redirected.

“Since we’ve been here, I’ve been thinking…this place really needs help to get back on its feet, and those relief workers were certainly making a difference, if a relatively small one…”

“So…” I caught on to his train of thought. “You’re saying that if there’s a place where we could make a big positive difference, it would be here?”

Sam nodded, glad to see I was catching on.

“That’s…yeah, that’d be great. I wanna help here too, and if we can find a way to secure my wish through that…”

“The question is…” Sam looked troubled. “How do we involve your wish in this? You can’t even use it anymore.”

Feeling hopelessness all over again, I sighed and looked over the ocean, wishing it would wash all my troubles away. “I don’t know.”

Managing a half smile, Sam gave me a reassuring look. “Try not to worry about it too bad, but keep it in mind. Like I said before, you’re a college student; you’ve dealt with big projects and tough deadlines before. If the stories are true, and I know that they are, you’re an expert at cramming before a due date.”

That got a small laugh out of me. “Yeah, that’s true. You should’ve seen how good I got at procrastinating.”

Feeling my spirits lift somewhat with the brightened mood, I let my gaze drift lazily with the waves. Was there any view in existence sweeter than this?

“Aww, look at them,” Sam cooed, pointing towards the hammock on the bottom floor.

Turned out there _was_ a sweeter view in existence. Dean and Castiel were snuggled up together in the faintly-swaying safety of the hammock, the latter wrapped up in the former’s arms and held against his chest. Both of them appeared to be content and asleep, although Castiel was obviously alert and awake; he had one of his wings draped freely over the edge of the hammock while the other was extended underneath Dean and wrapped around a support beam, gently rocking their shelter.

“Looks like they’re making up for the night they spent apart,” I commented warmly.

“Reminds me of being back in the bunker,” Sam recalled. “There’s at least one night a week where I’ll leave the library after a night of research and find them like that on the sofa. Sometimes I’ll put a blanket over them and find them in the same place the next morning.” He watched them fondly. “I’ve never seen Dean like that with anyone…they really are perfect together.”

“Destiny basically ordained it,” I agreed, beaming. “Now if only the show would confirm it as canon.”

Sam turned to me in shock. “It hasn’t already?”

Shrugging, I nonchalantly replied, “Kinda has, kinda hasn’t. It’s complicated, lots of subtext.”

Right as we were about to get into a conversation on the finer points of Destiel, Eve and Jack began barking and howling out of nowhere. Sam and I exchanged a faintly worried look.

Below, Dean snorted to wakefulness. “Hellhounds?”

“No, Dean, no Hellhounds,” Castiel gently assured. “But someone is approaching the Villa…”

Everyone waited in tense silence as a car blasting muffled tunes crunched down the driveway. Silvan came running up the stairs from the basement, watching the front door with unease.

Any tension in the caretaker’s body melted as a car door opened and someone walked out. Eve and Jack snarled ferociously as the person approached, but whoever they were, they didn’t seem at all concerned by the guard dogs.

“Ey, Silvan!” greeted a familiar, laidback voice.

Silvan sighed through clenched teeth. “Danny…”

Danny came waltzing through the front door and into plain view, grabbing a hesitant Silvan in a massive hug. “Told you to expect me!”

“You can’t be here,” Silvan quietly insisted, breaking the hug. “I’m on duty, I have guests.”

“I don’t think they’d mind.” He looked between the pair in the hammock and Sam and I above. “Right, guys?”

All of us hesitantly nodded our heads in confirmation, and that was all Danny needed.

“Great!” Danny strolled further into the house, crossing over the deck. “Let’s see what we can do about getting you to chill out, then. You wanna take a dip in the pool with me?”

“I already had plans to start making dinner,” Silvan shut the idea down.

“Fine,” Danny conceded, crossing his arms. “But after that, you are taking a break with me.”

Silvan didn’t answer and instead made for the kitchen, Danny close on his heels.

Once that moment had come and gone, Castiel began shifting in the hammock. “I need to continue working on your surprise now, if you wouldn’t mind.”

Dean pouted, still holding onto his angel. He didn’t seem keen to stop snuggling, but Castiel was adamant.

“I won’t be long,” the angel promised, pressing a chaste kiss to Dean’s lips.

Grinning dopily in the aftermath of the little smooch, Dean finally let Castiel slip out of his arms, sleepily curling in on himself and chasing sleep alone.

Curious to see what Castiel was going to do with his nest, I moved over to wait by the master bedroom’s door. Castiel didn’t look especially surprised to see me there, and he unlocked and opened the door for me without comment.

The first thing I noticed about the room this time was the smells that filled it. Before, it had smelled faintly of wood and salt, but now there were multiple crisp, green smells wafting about alongside that. Sitting off in a corner of the room were the potted herbs Castiel had purchased.

“ _That’s_ why you bought those plants,” I realized. “That was really smart thinking…”

“These nesting instincts have been quite helpful,” Castiel agreed, taking a few of the herbs into his arms. “They’ve provided some much-needed creative insight.”

“Which reminds me, we still haven’t figured out which bird you’re taking after.”

“No, we haven’t,” Castiel absently agreed, experimentally placing one of the herbs across the room. “Isn’t Danny knowledgeable about many different species of birds?”

As soon as that hit me, I knew what I had to do. “I’ll go see what I can find out from him. You keep…arranging.”

Nodding as he changed the position of the herb again, Castiel let me open and close the door behind me. More lovely smells that made my stomach gurgle were wafting up from the kitchen, and I naturally gravitated towards their source in search of food.

There wasn’t food ready in the kitchen yet, but I did find Silvan stirring something in a pot on the stovetop. Danny hovered right over his shoulder, sniffing the food’s fragrances and keeping as close a proximity to Silvan as he could.

“I’m technically working right now, you know,” Silvan chastised. “You’re not supposed to be distracting me.”

“You’re _always_ working,” Danny groaned. “Sometimes you just need to go with the flow, Silvan.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” Silvan countered, leaning down to check something in the oven. “You literally float down a river every day for a living.”

Danny finally took a step away from Silvan, letting him open the oven door and watch what was apparently bread baking. His gaze travelled downwards, and…okay yeah, Danny was totally checking out Silvan’s butt. Sometimes I genuinely forgot that was a thing people did.

In that instant, my growing suspicions were irreversibly raised. I’d sensed something between those two from the first time I saw them interact, but that moment just about confirmed it: they liked each other in a more-than-just-friendly way, or at least Danny did.

Unsure how to announce my presence, I cleared my throat. Both of the room’s inhabitants jumped in surprise and looked back at me.

“Could I borrow Danny for a minute?” I asked, pretending I’d only just then walked in.

“Please,” Silvan pleaded, shooing Danny away. “He hasn’t left me alone since he invited himself in.”

“Oh, c’mon,” Danny playfully countered. “You know you love me, Silvan.”

My eyebrows shot up at that flirtatious comment.

“I so don’t,” Silvan casually replied, returning to stirring the pot on the stove. “Go see what she wants.”

As Danny pulled himself away, I tried not to look like I’d had a major epiphany. There was _definitely_ something up with those two. The question remained: what should I do about it, if anything?

Storing away that question for later, I addressed Danny as he reached me. “You know a lot about birds, right?”

“You could say that,” Danny replied pridefully.

“Great, uh…’cause there’s this one bird I read about somewhere, but I can’t remember the name of it and it’s been bugging me for a while now.”

Clapping his hands together and looking ready for a challenge, Danny requested, “Give me all the details you remember.”

Gathering my thoughts, I relayed every detail I could about Castiel’s nesting habits. “When it nests, it gathers all kinds of stuff to impress its mate, and it arranges them in a specific way. I think it was especially drawn to blue stuff, and…and it built its nest in the shape of a teepee.”

Pushing his glasses further up his nose, Danny deeply considered the facts I’d given him. “Do you remember anything about what it looks like or where it lives?”

Castiel’s words echoed in my head: _“Distance does little to characterize wavelengths; appearance and conditions are more important.”_

“I think it was black with a blue sheen,” I relayed. “And…it would probably live in a place a lot like this island.”

Clicking his tongue, Danny held up a triumphant finger. “I know the bird you are talking about. You’re thinking of the Satin Bowerbird. They’re found in New Zealand, which isn’t exactly like Dominica but is similar enough. They’ve got black feathers with a brilliant blue sheen, like the color blue, and are known for building their nests in the shape of bowers and decorating them with intensive detail.”

All of those details fit Castiel’s behavior to a tee. “That’s it! Thank you so much, Danny.”

Flashing a grin, Danny replied, “Not a problem. You have any more bird puzzles, come to me.” He glanced behind him at Silvan, and an undeniably flirtatious look crossed his face. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to my friend.”

“Go on ahead,” I chuckled, watching with amusement as Danny rejoined Silvan by the stove and resumed playfully pestering him.

Information gathered, I practically ran upstairs to relay it to Castiel. I knocked on the door and announced my presence, and the angel let me in almost immediately. The door opened to reveal a lovely array of herbal scents mixed just right. The potted herbs had been carefully placed in different corners of the room to achieve the most desirable effect.

“Nice job,” I complimented, breathing deeply as I entered the room.

“What did you find out?” Castiel asked as he dutifully shut the door behind me.

“A lot. I know which bird’s instincts you have: The Satin Bowerbird’s.”

Taking this in, Castiel muttered to himself, “Satin Bowerbird…I’ve heard of that species.” He brought his wings around himself to look them over. “I should have considered that the color and shape of my wings would be a useful clue.”

Someone knocked on the door, making both of us jump.

“Cas?” Sam’s voice cut through the thin wooden walls. “It’s me.”

“You’re not allowed in here, Sam,” Castiel hurriedly affirmed. “You’re very close to your brother, I can’t guarantee that you’ll keep the secret of what I’m doing in here from him.”

There was a pause. “Uh…okay. Silvan sent me up to tell you dinner is ready.”

Castiel’s feathers untensed now that the threat of someone invading his nest was gone. “Oh. Thank you, Sam, I’ll be down in just a moment.”

The two of us locked up the room and went downstairs to the kitchen. Dean, who had already woken up, was seated and helping himself to the food on the table. Sam was just sitting down while Silvan and Danny sat together at the far end of the table.

Dinner that night was simple but lovely, consisting of garlic butter mac and cheese, spicy lentil soup, and flatbread. Danny filled his entire plate with nothing but the mac and cheese, leaving only enough room for a single slice of bread on the side.

“Silvan only made this mac and cheese because he knows it’s my favorite,” he told the table. “He just wants me to stick around longer.”

“Not true,” Silvan refuted, though the flustered smile he wore didn’t make him look very convincing.

Friendly conversation filled the air around the dinner table that night. Sam and Dean speculated over what sorts of supernatural beings would live on an island like Dominica while I fact-checked what I’d read in the angel physiology book with Castiel. Meanwhile at the other end of the table, Danny was giving Silvan a detailed lesson about the intricacies of the avian reproduction system. I only caught a few words, but…it was enough to put me off my food for a few minutes.

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” Sam piped up after our plates were empty. “Are we ever gonna play D&D, or did that idea die?”

“Oh yeah!” I nearly burst with excitement. “I’ve been reading the books, we should totally play that. I should probably be the dungeonmaster, since I read over everything and know it the best.”

“Dungeonmaster?” Dean wondered, totally unfamiliar with the term.

“The one who’s in charge of the game,” I defined. “I already have some ideas for what will happen, but for now I think you guys need to create some characters so we can set everything up. I’ll help you with that.”

“Dungeons and Dragons?” Danny eavesdropped. “Silvan, you are running a house full of nerds here.”

“Darn right he is!” I cheered, rushing to dunk my dishes in the sink and gather the supplies from upstairs.

Once I’d returned with the guidebooks and character sheets, I overheard Danny and Silvan going back and forth.

“Now’s the time for a break!” Danny insisted in a sing-song voice. “Your guests are going to be busy with their game, they’ll hardly even notice you’re gone.”

“Annalise wouldn’t want me slacking on the job,” Silvan muttered uncertainly, though he sounded like he would cave any second.

“Annalise isn’t here,” Danny soothed. “And besides, there is a big difference between slacking and taking a break.”

“Fine,” Silvan conceded at last. “But we’re staying near the guests in case they need anything from me.”

“We should be fine,” Sam waved him off. “Have some fun.”

While the two of them left the kitchen and discussed what to do, I sat down at the table and spread out the materials. I passed out a character sheet to each of my friends and opened up the section in one of the guidebooks about character creation.

Danny and Silvan returned pretty quickly, seating themselves at a small table underneath the balcony and opening a tin of dominoes. Content that they’d found an activity for the evening, I got ready to take on my first task as dungeonmaster: helping my friends create their characters.

“So you start with the basics,” I began. “Pick out a class and race for your character and build on them from there.”

Each of the three took turns flipping through the appropriate pages in the guidebook. Sam skimmed over the pages first since he was already somewhat familiar with the concepts held within.

“I always used to play an elf when I was in that club,” Sam recalled. “I guess I’ll do that again…and I’ll go ahead and be extra typical and make him a wizard because spells are the best part of the game.”

The book was passed to Dean then, who at first laughed and shook his head at much of its contents. His pretense of being above all this slowly faded as he read more and more, however.

“Alright, the rogues look pretty badass,” Dean admitted. “I think I’m going with that.”

“And your race?” I pressed, curious to see what he’d choose.

“You know me, I’ve always been team human,” Dean quickly decided. “The human rogue, that’s me.”

Castiel was last to peer through the book, and he took the longest by far. He took his time examining each and every race and class to determine which ones suited him best, and I was impressed by the genuine thought he ended up putting into his choices.

“My favorite of the races listed here is the Aarakocra,” Castiel told us when he finally looked away from the book. “Since they’re anthropomorphic avians and I identify rather strongly with birds because of my wings, I believe that is the best choice.”

I was on the edge of my seat to hear the rest. “And your class?”

“I would like to be a cleric. They are healers who draw magic from a holy source; I also strongly identify with that.”

“Perfect! Now, the book says that Aar- Aarak…we’ll just call them ‘Kocras’, are a specific kind of bird, but…since I’m the dungeonmaster, I say you can be creative and make your character any kind of bird you want.”

“In that case,” Castiel sent me a look that held meaning lost on our tablemates. “I would like to make my character a Satin Bowerbird.”

“Good choice,” Danny commented, nodding approvingly and raising a domino in salute.

Feeling unusually social that night, I asked, “How’s dominoes going?”

“Excellently,” Danny replied with a grin. “I’m kicking Silvan’s ass.”

“Language, please!” Silvan scolded.

Laughing heartily, Danny countered with, “Like you’re one to talk. You used to curse like a sailor.”

“I’ve trained myself not to anymore,” Silvan replied, trying to sound dignified. “I don’t want to risk upsetting any guests with bad language.”

Dean snickered and called to him, “It’s fine, we don’t give a shit about cursing.”

Silvan just stared at us for a few long moments. Then, he abruptly slammed a domino down on the table with a loud clatter. “In that case…Danny, you fucker, it is _on_.”

All of us struggled to hold back laughter, our eyes wide at hearing Silvan’s profanity.

Once we’d gotten ahold of ourselves, I refocused the group. “Now, the next step would be creating your backstories.”

“Ooh! I’ve already got mine!” Dean interrupted, and I let him share his idea. “Okay, so my guy is like an awesome assassin with a cause. He goes after the bad guys and doesn’t let the law get in his way, wanders all over the place and lives a gritty lonely life.”

Wow. He was really getting into this, even from the get-go.

“Sounds like a chaotic good outlander to me,” I decided, and Dean filled out the corresponding sections on his sheet. “Sam, what about you?”

“I’m thinking a true neutral sage,” he said, showing off his prior knowledge of the game’s terminology. “True neutral’s the most fun because you can basically do whatever you want. He’s devoted himself to studying…um…magic law. That’s a thing, right?”

“Sure, we can say it is. Like, the restrictions and regulations placed on magic users maybe?”

“That’d be perfect, yeah…so he’s gone off and devoted himself to studying that, and then he gets swept up in some crazy quest.”

“That I drag him on,” Dean added. “’Cause he’s my brother, dammit, and I’m not going on this crazy quest alone.”

“I’m seeing quite a few parallels,” I observed. “Did Sam’s character lose his girlfriend in a tragic event, and now he seeks vengeance for her death?”

“…That’s…a little too close to reality,” Sam fretted.

“Fair enough,” I agreed, realizing I may have gone a bit too far. 

“Wait,” Sam interjected. “If my character’s an elf and Dean’s is a human, can they still be brothers?”

Even with all the time I’d spent studying the handbooks, I couldn’t definitively answer that. “I’m…not sure. If you were a half-elf, definitely.”

All Dean had to do was give Sam a single pleading look to convince him.

“Fine, I’ll be a half-elf,” Sam conceded. “Sounds a lot cooler anyways.”

I turned the final member of our group. “Cas? What are you thinking?”

“I’d imagine that my character worked as a devoutly religious bird-creature somewhere,” Castiel proposed. “And…he worked alongside his devout bird-people brethren. At some point, he discovered they were plotting something sinister, using their beliefs for some misguided purpose and tricking their followers, so he rebelled and is now hunted by his brethren. Oh, and all he wants to do is help people and make up for previously going along with the sinister happenings.”

“A neutral good acolyte,” I summarized. “Still seeing a lot of parallels; I like it. Now all that’s left besides figuring out your stats and items is naming these guys.”

“Andus,” Sam come up with almost immediately. “Andus…can I just make his last name Winchester?”

“I don’t think they have Winchester guns in this world,” I doubted.

“Then…Andus Broadsword.”

“I can get behind that,” Dean agreed. “My guy will be Marlow Broadsword.”

Sam gave his brother a baffled look. “Where’d you come up with Marlow?”

Shrugging defensively, Dean weakly explained, “It just sounded cool, I dunno.”

Oh yeah, Dean was definitely already getting into this. He was way more of a nerd than he’d ever admit, and although I already knew that, it was vindicating to see live proof of it.

“After experimenting with different syllable combinations,” Castiel announced, “I have decided that I will name my character Cassius.”

Now that we had down the basics, we had to get down to the nitty-gritty details of stats. This part was considerably less fun and just involved going through charts in the book and writing down corresponding numbers on the character sheets.

Just as we were wrapping up, a triumphant domino was slammed onto the table outside with a brittle smack.

“I did it!” Silvan confidently exclaimed, all inhibition gone from his voice. “Who’s kicking who’s ass _now_?”

“There’s the Silvan I know,” Danny warmly commented, dropping all his dominoes on the table. “I concede, you win this game. I thought you’d be rusty after such a long time, but I underestimated you.”

“You won’t make that mistake anymore,” Silvan laughed, still riding the high from his victory. “You went easy on me, that was hardly a fair game.”

“True…” Danny’s gaze turned skyward to take in the setting sun. “You’ll have to wait for a rematch, I need to get home.”

“Oh, you’re leaving?” Silvan tried his very hardest to sound casual, but his disappointment was glaringly obvious.

Danny must have picked up on it, too. “Tell you what: next time I have a break, because I actually take those when I have the opportunity like a normal person, I’ll come and find you.”

“Try not catch me during working hours,” Silvan sighed, packing up the dominoes in their box.

“How am I supposed to do that?” Danny chuckled as he stood up. “Every hour is a working hour for you.”

“I work a fulltime job,” Silvan defended.

“So do I.”

“Shut up.”

Full-on laughing, Danny grabbed Silvan for a hug that lasted a bit too long, even by friendly island standards. When he pulled away, he headed straight for the door.

“Try not to miss me too much,” Danny quipped, leaving Silvan with a wink and heading outside to his car.

Silvan placed his hands on his hips and shook his head, but smiled after Danny and watched him leave. Even when Eve and Jack returned to their barking and guarding duties, Silvan didn’t move from that spot until the tunes thrumming from the car outside were a distant echo down the road.

Snapping back to my own business, I cleared my throat and addressed my tablemates. “We’ve pretty much got your characters set up, so…ruminate on them for a bit, and we’ll start the game tomorrow if you’re ready.”

“Still can’t believe I’m doing this,” Dean muttered to himself, though he held his character sheet with particular care as he left the kitchen.

Packing up my books and guides, I was last to depart the kitchen. I stepped outside and was hit with a particularly strong gust of salty breeze, and I had to pause beneath to balcony to fully appreciate it.

“I’m sorry about Danny,” Silvan’s voice startled me. “I really didn’t expect him to come here, he’s not supposed to.”

Taking a few steps sideways to stand beside him, I assured, “It’s totally fine, really. The more the merrier…” I grinned to myself. “Besides, it sounds like you guys had fun.”

Humming with a bout of cheery laughter, Silvan agreed, “Yes, we did. It’s been too long since I spent time with him. I haven’t really seen much of him since Maria.”

I glanced at him, silently hoping he would elaborate.

He did. “I really have been busy with work, but Danny doesn’t understand. I have to work to support my family, I’ve barely had time to do anything outside of caring for the Villa and its guests.”

Entering the therapist mode I’d practiced in the past, I suggested, “You could just tell him that the reason you work so much is for your family.”

“I still doubt he would understand,” Silvan sighed. “Danny lives a very carefree life. He knows what I went through with Andon, but he doesn’t really have a strong sense of family. He never knew his father, and his mother had many children to take care of.”

Well _that_ was a weighty drop in the conversation. “That’s…wow, that’s not fun.”

“That’s how it is for a lot of Dominicans,” Silvan told me. “Marriage is uncommon here. Some people have long-term, committed partners, but for the most part people just impregnate each other and then either stick around or don’t and move on to someone else. It’s all very…casual.”

It took all my willpower not to be culturally insensitive right then. Even if it was a flawed system, what culture’s management of relationships _wasn’t_ flawed, I reasoned.

“I got really lucky,” Silvan smiled. “My parents stayed committed to each other. A lot of people here are happy just knowing their mother and possibly having a distant relationship with their father, but…once you’ve had a taste of being in a complete family, that’s not something you want to let go of.”

That single statement hit me down to my bones, rattling loose buried memories of shouting matches and separations. “I know exactly what you mean.”

Silvan looked at me questioningly but didn’t press me to elaborate. I was very thankful for that.

“Danny means well, though,” Silvan got back on track with his original point. “It is nice to have him around to remind me that I don’t have to stress myself out all the time. If he’s here for long enough, I’ll let myself relax.”

I huffed a laugh. “Yeah, you and him…”

I realized what I was about to get into and hesitated. Should I really be interfering in this? My prior matchmaking experience said that yes, I should, and since Silvan had proven himself to be a very open and straightforward person, I paid him the same respect.

Coughing into my fist, I glanced at Silvan out of the corner of my eye. “You know he’s into you, right?”

The only response Silvan gave to that was taking a deep breath and puffing out his chest. He let out the breath as a light, nervous laugh.

“It’s not like that,” he calmly told me. “We’ve known each other since we were kids, and…” He changed gears, moving onto another excuse. “He’ll flirt with anyone, really.”

I raised a disbelieving eyebrow. “He hasn’t flirted with any of my friends even once, and I’m told they’re especially attractive people.”

Still smiling and shaking his head, Silvan stared resolutely towards the waves crashing in the night. “Danny is a character. It’s hard to say for certain what he wants. But when he does want something…he tends to go after it.”

“He sure seems to be going after you quite a bit,” I pointed out.

Some of the doubt in Silvan’s expression fell away. “Maybe. Like I said, it’s hard to tell with him.”

That shocked me a little to hear. I’d been so used to Dean grappling with his denial that it was actually a little off-putting to hear someone who _didn’t_ have a raging allergy to discussing their love life with me.

“Anyways, it’s about time for bed,” Silvan observed, peering up at the moon as the clouds passed over it. “You should get some sleep. We’re going to have a busy day tomorrow.”

Giving me a friendly nod, Silvan set off towards the stairs and descended into his living space. There was still quite a bit to explore with him and Danny, but that would have to wait until later. If it really was bedtime, that meant the otters were settling in for their nightly routine, and I wouldn’t miss that for anything.

I settled into the hammock just in time to catch Castiel getting into bed, his trench coat shed and sitting on the dresser like before. The sound of running water in the bathroom indicated that Dean was brushing his teeth.

The water shut off and Dean stepped into the bedroom, yawning loudly. He was dressed in his pajamas and blinking blearily in the light.

Flipping off the light switch, Dean sleepily maneuvered himself into bed beside Castiel. This seemed liked a particularly lowkey evening, the two of them going about their bedtime routine in comfortable silence.

Just as he was schooching towards Castiel, Dean paused and checked, “You’re not gonna go off again to work on that surprise in the middle of this, right?”

“No, Dean,” Castiel promised. “I intend to remain here with you for the whole night.”

“Good.” Humming in satisfaction, Dean let himself shuffle the rest of the way into Castiel’s space. “Jus’ wanna keep you close.”

“You needn’t worry. I wouldn’t leave you.”

The two of them arranged themselves a bit as they got cozy, maneuvering and remaneuvering as they tried to wordlessly work out how they wanted to lay.

“Lemme be the big spoon?” Dean finally requested.

“That would be fine with me,” Castiel happily allowed, laying down and letting Dean slither into place behind him. The angel pulled his wings forwards and around himself somewhat to make room; even when incorporeal, they were surely an obstructive presence in that position.

“Not lettin’ you go anywhere,” Dean affirmed, curling around his angel.

“I could just teleport if I really did want to leave,” Castiel pointed out. “But I most certainly won’t.” His wings twitched in the darkness. “You’re…holding me awfully tight, Dean.”  
“Don’t wanna take any chances after you left the hammock. But if it’s uncomfortable, I can–”

“It’s not,” Castiel assured, humming and shuffling backwards in Dean’s hold. “I was merely making an observation.” A beat passed. “Just so you know, I…didn’t want to leave you in that hammock.”

“Then why did you?” There was no hostility in Dean’s voice, only curiosity.

Castiel blanked. “I…it’s difficult to explain, but…what I’m working on in our room, it’s simply something that I _have_ to do when I think of you, and when I get the urge to, it’s difficult to ignore.”

Dean laid in total silence for a few moments, and then a snort erupted from him.

“What?” Castiel calmly asked.

“Uh, dude, it sounds like you’re saying…” He shook with momentary laughter again. “Are you, uh…’taking care of yourself’ in there?”

Oh god. Of all the friggin’ discussions to overhear…I shrank back in the hammock somewhat. Leave it to Dean to make anything and everything dirty by assumption.

“Taking care of myself how?” Castiel asked, utterly oblivious.

Clearing his throat and trying to keep a steady voice, Dean vaguely explained, “You know, since the angels are after us and we can’t do much of anything together, you…go off on your own?”

Somewhere in the silence that followed, the meaning clicked in Castiel’s mind. “Dean, that’s not–”

“And you’re hiding it from me ‘cause you’re embarrassed!” Dean concluded. “You shouldn’t be ashamed of that, seriously Cas, it’s–”

“A perfectly normal thing that most humans partake in, I know,” Castiel interrupted. “I wouldn’t be ashamed if that’s what I was doing, but it isn’t.”

Finally dropping it, Dean begged, “Then what is it?”

“You’ll find out in the near future.”

Pouting, Dean groaned into Castiel’s shoulder. “I don’t like secrets between us, Cas.”

“I don’t either,” Castiel weightily agreed. “But this one is necessary. If you were to find out sooner than you’re supposed to, my instincts might…” His feathers shuddered. “I’m not sure what would happen, but it would not be pleasant.”

Sighing tiredly, Dean relented, “…Alright. I trust you. I’m just dying to find out what you’re doing for me in there…”

“As I said, you’ll find out soon.”

“Gimme a grace kiss ‘til then?”

“I did say there would be more of those,” Castiel warmly recalled, twisting around in Dean’s hold somewhat.

A blue light illuminated a tiny portion of the room, revealing the pair’s faces smushed together and sharing a deep kiss. They must have stayed like that for nearly a full minute before breaking apart, the glow of grace fading away.

Latching onto Castiel and burying his face in the angel’s hair, Dean drowsily proclaimed, “ _My_ angel.”

“Your angel,” Castiel warmly confirmed, turning back around. “Which makes you my human.”

“Mm-hmm,” Dean agreed, lightly snoring and drifting off to sleep.

Humming lovingly, Castiel settled in and let himself rest as well.

Knowing there wasn’t anything else to be seen or heard, I silently wished them the best night’s sleep and quietly climbed the stairs to my own room. I got an early night as Silvan had suggested. I would have worried about whether or not tomorrow’s evidently busy events required me waking up early, except that sleeping in hadn’t been a problem for this entire trip.  
Still, if I woke up at 5:30 AM, I was going to pitch a fit and fight the sun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sea moss juice sounds gross but I promise it's actually really really tasty ;w;
> 
> And yes, this D&D matter is going to become a continued plot thread in this story, because...fantasy worlds are cool, and also hooray for character and interpersonal development/exploration!
> 
> Photo of Portsmouth after Maria: https://www.caribbeannewsnow.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/10/portsmouth2.jpg
> 
> Photo of Satin Bowerbird: http://animal.memozee.com/ArchOLD-4/1117986860.jpg


	6. In which you practice voice acting, Dean does heavy-duty yardwork, Cas suffers more than he deserves, and Sam flirts with Goblins

_5/28/18_

Thank every force of good in the world, I didn’t wake up at 5:30 the next morning after all. Instead, I rose at the comparatively far more reasonable time of 6:30 AM.

I came downstairs just in time to see Sam and Silvan returning from walking the dogs. The two were talking amicably about Dominican culture, Eve and Jack comfortably trotting beside them. Looks like they really were warming up to Sam…

Waiting on the downstairs table were what looked like bright yellow construction vests and hardhats. At first, I didn’t know what to make of them, but when I thought back to the volunteers we’d seen on the roadside yesterday…

“Are we doing volunteer work today?” I wondered aloud.

“We are,” Silvan’s voice answered as he entered the kitchen. “As soon as your other two friends wake up.”

Sam was trailing right behind Silvan, and his eyes immediately darted to the construction get-up. “You already got that set up? That was fast.”

“My brother was head of the local emergency relief organization,” Silvan explained. “I was able to pull a few strings and get you signed up for today.”

Excited to help but wary without knowing just what we’d be doing, I poured myself a bowl of cereal and sat down at the table. If we were going to be working today, I wanted to have some energy to run off of. Sam must have had the same thought, because he made a bowl of carrots, peppers, and other vegetables he’d gotten from the market.

Dean and Castiel emerged from their room by the time I’d reached the bottom of my bowl, both of them looking well-rested with major cases of bedhead. Dean immediately honed in on the fridge but paused when he saw what was on the table.

“We dressing up as construction workers today?” he guessed.

“Volunteer work,” Sam patiently corrected.

“…Oh, okay. Cool. When do we start?”

“As soon as you’ve had breakfast,” Silvan cut in, opening the fridge for Dean to peer inside.

Once everyone who required food had eaten, Silvan handed us each a vest and hat to put on. Neither of them was a perfect fit on me; they were made for larger adults of the male variety, but I made it work by tightening the helmet’s straps and embracing the oversized look of the vest hanging off my shoulders.

If nothing else, Castiel and I could commiserate over the state of our outfits. The angel looked even more out of place than me in his combination of roadwork gear and business suit. If there really was such a thing as an affront to fashion, this was it.

The drive that morning didn’t last long at all. We passed through Calibishie in the direction of the airport, but we didn’t get that far. Our jeep stopped just outside the borders of a neighboring village, pulling off the side of the road and parking beneath the shade of a natural fruit orchard.

Silvan led us down the road until we reached a bend bordered by thinned out rainforest. A crew of other volunteers in matching attire was already there unloading tools from the back of their truck, and Silvan waved to get their attention as we approached.

A few of the guys called out Silvan’s name in greeting, waving us towards them. Once they’d exchanged personable greetings with him, they turned to Team Free Will and I.

“These are the ones you enlisted last minute?” one of the guys asked, a specific accent coloring his voice that I couldn’t quite place.

“That would be them, yes,” Silvan confirmed. “They’re guests from the Villa, they wanted to help out.”

“Huh,” he mused, stepping forward to look us over. “We appreciate your help, we need everyone we can get. You’re from the states?”

“Yeah,” Dean nodded, adopting his charismatic persona. “And you’re from…?”

“Jamaica, we’re the crew from Jamaica. We’re on vine duty today.”

“What exactly does ‘vine duty’ entail?” Sam asked the question we were all wondering.

The Jamaican volunteer just slowly let his gaze trail upwards towards the hill on the side of the road. I turned around to see what he was looking at and very quickly realized what “vine duty” must have meant. The entire ground was covered in a low canopy of ugly green leaves protruding from vines. The few trees in the area were overrun by the plant, congested and strangled by its winding roots. In some cases, sparse vines could be aesthetically pleasing, but this nasty greenery stuck out like a massive sore thumb stretching over and along the roadside.

“Ew,” I muttered on instinct.

“Ew is right,” the volunteer agreed. “These vines have become invasive since Maria took down all the tree cover. Now they’re taking over local farmland and obstructing the roads; people can’t grow food or drive safely in a lot of places.”

Some of the other volunteers were unloading weedwhackers and wheelbarrows from the back of their truck. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what exactly we’d be doing to curb the vine problem. Most of the crew took weedwhackers and started climbing the hillside to begin cutting while the others grabbed wheelbarrows and waited.

“Give this a try, Sam,” Silvan offered, passing a weedwhacker into the hunter’s hands.

“Y-you want me to do weedwhacking?” Sam stuttered out.

“We call it swiping here, but yes.” Silvan grinned and went off to get a weedwhacker for himself.

Staring down at the tool with confusion and a little bit of fear, Sam didn’t look like he had a clue what he was supposed to do with it. This man, who had operated guns, flamethrowers, delicate explosives, and various other tools of murder and violence, didn’t know how to use a weedwhacker. Bless his Hell-ravaged soul.

“Pass ‘er to me, Sammy,” Dean offered, holding out a hand.

Still eyeing it warily, Sam eagerly passed off the weedwhacker to his brother. “You actually know how to use it?”

Poking at his noggin, Dean bragged, “Learned a thing or two about yardwork when I was with Lisa. Just stand back.”

Giving him a wide radius to work with, Sam, Castiel and I watched as Dean brought the weedwhacker— or was it swiper? —humming to life. The whirring blades of the device buzzed clean through the roots of the vines nearest the road’s edge, loosening the patchwork of leaves and tossing them to the side.

“Easy as pie,” Dean quipped, although the strength it appeared to take to keep that swiper on track was more than a little daunting, and that was to say nothing of the danger posed by the blades.

“I’m…just gonna stick to wheelbarrow duty,” Sam declined, heading towards the truck.

If someone of Sam’s size and strength was avoiding the weedwhacker, that definitely meant I should as well. I followed him towards the truck, and we each claimed a wheelbarrow and began picking up the chopped vines.

For the next hour, our crew slowly but surely crept along the roadside, eliminating the vines as we went. Numerous cars passed by us, many of them slowing down to honk and commend us for us efforts. Every time I ended up with a full wheelbarrow of weeds, I’d follow everyone else’s example and dump it in the back of truck to start anew.

Though the constant buzzing of the swipers was disturbing to me and Sam at first, we adjusted after a while and were able to keep up absent conversation while we wheeled and carried. Dean was still busy showing off his weedwhacking talents and had even attempted to show Castiel the ropes. The angel had only managed to turn on the device and hold it for a few seconds before stating that it made his wings vibrate uncomfortably and handing it back.

Left without anything else to do, Castiel observed the swiping process and passed out bottles of water from the truck’s backseat to keep the volunteers hydrated. Around my fourth wheelbarrow’s worth of vine debris, the angel pointed something out.

“You’re breaking up most of the plants,” Castiel observed, closely watching one of the volunteers. “But you’re leaving the roots in some places. If they are left here, the vines will only grow back.”

Wiping sweat from her forehead, the volunteer countered, “Well, it’s the best we can do. It’s not like we can rip them out by the roots; these suckers are buried deep.”

It wasn’t often Castiel got a competitive look on his face, but when faced with a challenge like that one, how could he back down?

Flexing his vessel’s fingers, Castiel leaned down and grabbed ahold of the nearest vine. Scrunching up his face in mild concentration, he flapped his wings to give himself some momentum, and in one clean pull, tore an entire sheet of vines out of the ground, roots and all.

Other volunteers who had stopped to see what he was doing gaped at the sight. Even I found my mouth falling open; I knew about Castiel’s angelic strength, but I never thought I’d see it applied for something like this.

“Where did you learn to do that?” the volunteer breathed out, utterly dumbstruck.

“Um…here. Just now,” Castiel answered uncertainly. “I have much strength, but I’ve never used it for clearing weeds before.”

The rest of the volunteer crew convened around him, asking questions and begging him to continue. Castiel ended up uprooting more and more vines while the volunteers cheered him on, working together to carry the massive root systems to the truck.

The Winchesters and I could only stare at the scene for a while. Within minutes, Castiel had just become this crew’s favorite person.

All in all, Castiel’s mass weed pulling methods turned a day’s worth of work into a morning’s worth of work. We worked until the truck bed was nearly overflowing with vines, and even after we called it quits the volunteers didn’t stop giving Castiel their undivided attention and praise.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen Cas get this popular,” Sam mused.

“I think a bit of fame will be good for him,” Dean said, obviously proud.

Silvan broke away from the crew to speak to me, Sam, and Dean as we removed our cautionary garb. “Guess that’s it for today. I never would have pinned Cas as someone who could do that.”

“You’d be surprised,” Dean huffed, humor in his voice. “What’s on the agenda for the rest of the day?”

Sighing, Silvan pulled his phone from his pocket. “I have one other thing planned, but there’s an errand we have to run first. I need to pick someone up from the airport. Since the jeep only has five seats, one of us will have to stay behind…” He stared back at Castiel, who was being swarmed by the volunteer crew. “I think I know who _that_ will be.”

“Hey, Cas!” Dean called over the crew’s chatter. “We’re heading out. You gonna be okay?”

“I-I think so,” Castiel called back. “These volunteers are being very kind to me.”

One of the volunteers shouted to us with abounding enthusiasm, “We’re taking this guy to the village bar with us! Gonna treat him to some drinks for his incredible work!”

The rest of the crew cheered in uproarious agreement. Castiel smiled uncertainly, flushing from all the positive attention.

“We’ll pick you up later,” Silvan promised him, jangling the jeep’s keys and guiding us down the road to the vehicle.

“Is he really gonna be okay?” Dean fretted, showing just how much of an overprotective boyfriend he could be.

“He’ll be fine, Dean,” Sam placated. “I think sometimes you forget that Cas is a warrior. He can take care of himself.”

Grumbling something about “always forgetting ‘cause he’s so gentle,” Dean slipped into the jeep’s backseat.

It wasn’t that long of a drive from the volunteer site to the airport. All three of us sat in the backseat, leaving the passenger side open for whoever we were picking up. Speaking of…

The airport was quiet but active when we arrived. Silvan pulled the jeep up beside the terminal where many newly-arrived passengers spilled out from the gate. I kept watch, trying to guess which person was ours. All of us got caught completely unaware when someone hurriedly opened the passenger door and slipped into the car with us.

She was a young woman with short, brown hair and a pale complexion. A travel backpack was flung over her shoulder and she wore light, earthy clothing. Something about her looked familiar, awakening an uneasy intuition in my being. When I saw her face, I knew why.

Viviel, the speckle-winged angel from the bunker, had just gotten into the car with us. I could see Sam and Dean tense up, immediately on alert as they stared at her with wide, stunned eyes. How could one of the angels have found us?

Except…she wasn’t an angel. She was missing one key feature: her green, speckled wings. I could see nothing protruding from her back, and besides that, the expression she wore was hardly the stern one I remembered seeing on Viviel.

“Vanessa,” Silvan greeted, leaning across the seats to give her a momentary, friendly hug. “How was your flight?”

“Crazy as always,” she answered in a high-pitched French accent. “I always feel like we’re going to hit the mountains as the plane descends, but it hasn’t happened yet!”

Chortling together, the two of them looked to the backseat. Their expressions twisted with concern when they saw how out of it we all were.

“Something wrong?” Silvan checked.

Sam and Dean glanced at me. Knowing they were looking to me for confirmation, I subtly shook my head to communicate that no, this was not the angel.

“Nothing,” Dean managed, shaking himself. “Vanessa here just…looks a lot like someone we know.”

Nodding in understanding, the two of them went back to being all smiles.

“I’m Vanessa,” the woman introduced herself. “I’m a student at the medical university here.”

Still reeling from seeing an angelic lookalike, Sam asked, “There’s a…medical university here?”

“Down in Portsmouth,” Silvan confirmed. “That’s where we’re driving Vanessa to. She’s been abroad in Haiti this past week working on her thesis.”

We just nodded along, trying to wrap our heads around what was going on here. Even when Silvan started moving the car along again, I still didn’t know what to make of it. This was either Viviel’s vessel, or a different version of Viviel’s vessel from my world. Either way, despite her exact resemblance to the being that had been out to kill us days ago, her behavior was lighthearted and talkative. She certainly didn’t seem like someone who had been involved with angels…

“So…Vanessa,” Sam started awkwardly, trying to keep up a light conversation. “You sound like you’re from…?”

“France?” She grinned knowingly. “Oui, that is where I’m from originally. I’ve been studying in Dominica for almost four years.”

“What brought you here?” Sam stiffly asked.

“The people. I love the people here, they’re so open and friendly.”

“Say, Vanessa,” Dean leaped in, unable to hold back any longer. “Just for curiosity’s sake, have you…had any weird things happen to you lately?”

Though the question caught her off guard, she rolled with it. “Why do you ask?” she wondered, quietly chuckling.

“It’s just something I like to ask people,” Dean pieced together. “Makes for interesting conversation.”

Playing along, Vanessa asked, “What kind of weird are you looking for?”

Put on the spot, Dean just went for it. “I dunno, uh…memory gaps, losing control of your body…hearing heavenly voices?”

“You sound like you’re fixing to sell me some snake oil medicine for all my ailments!” She laughed heartily then. “But no, nothing like that. I did have a weird dream recently where I was performing surgery on a chicken…and it woke up and attacked me with its guts flying everywhere.”

Hmm. Definitely weird, but probably not out of the ordinary for a medical student and certainly not an indicator of angelic possession. What the heck was going on?

Since that line of questioning didn’t prove fruitful, Sam and Dean went quiet for the rest of the drive. Vanessa and Silvan did most of the talking, discussing the former’s thesis about healthcare in developing countries. I listened closely, employing my useful intuition, but didn’t get a single weird vibe about Vanessa or a word she said. The only gut feeling I got about this girl was that she had nothing to do the angels hunting us down.

But still, running into her on such a tiny island in another world? Pretty big freakin’ coincidence.

By the time we’d reached the outskirts of Portsmouth and pulled onto the university’s seaside campus, we’d relaxed and accepted Vanessa’s presence. She hopped out of the car and walked around to Silvan’s side, leaning down to bid him goodbye through the rolled down window.

“Thank you for the ride, Silvan,” she expressed. “I was afraid I might have to walk back to school!”

“Anytime,” Silvan replied. “If you need anything, let me know, okay?”

Nodding and beaming, Vanessa gave us a single wave and tugged her backpack further up her shoulders. Once he ensured that she’d gotten inside the nearest building safely, Silvan started driving again.

“So, was that a lady friend of yours, or…?” Dean teased, leaning towards the front seat and waggling an eyebrow.

“Oh, not at all,” Silvan easily denied. “Vanessa is a family friend. She…” His face fell slightly and he looked in his rearview mirror towards the campus. “She was Andon’s girlfriend. She was always close with my family, so we help her however we can now.”

A darkened mood descended as the implications of that settled in. Just realizing the grief she must have been through made me feel guilty for even considering that she was involved with a high-tempered angel.

“That must have been hard on her,” Sam murmured. “I know what that’s like.”

Nodding solemnly, Silvan focused on driving the car back towards the village. “She’s doing well now, though. Very committed to her studies. Now then…” He grinned at Dean through the mirror. “Let’s go pick up your vine-killer boyfriend!”

“He’d better not have gotten himself drunk,” Dean grumbled, only half-joking.

The quaint, outdoor bar was crowded with the volunteer crew when we arrived. At first glance, I couldn’t see a single sign of Castiel anywhere, but I did eventually see a shimmering black and blue wing emerge somewhere above the crowd.

“That’s him,” Dean affirmed, opening his door and melting into the cluster of people.

One minute later, Dean reemerged from the crowd, towing Castiel along by his hand. The angel didn’t look especially drunk, but then again, it was always hard to tell with him…

Castiel slumped back in the passenger seat upon reaching the car. Dean eyed him with distant amusement as he slipped in behind him.

“Hey, Cas,” Sam greeted, equally amused. “You find a liquor store?”

“No,” Castiel rumbled. “But I did…they…the nice people, they gave me approximately a few gallons of…something. I didn’t read the label. That was probably irresponsible of me.”

“You drunk?” Sam pressed, although the answer was already in plain sight.

“Only slightly,” Castiel honestly replied. Head lolling to the side to scan over the three of us, Castiel paused and stared at Dean with a dorky smile. “Dean…you have very pretty eyes.”

Blushing, Dean refuted, “Okay, you are more than ‘only slightly’ drunk, mister.”

Castiel turned his gaze to Sam. “Sam…your hair confuses me.”

Instinctively reaching up to run a hand through his luscious locks, Sam looked borderline offended by that nonspecific comment.

It was my turn to receive drunk Castiel’s scrutiny. “[Y/N]…you are a good friend. Thank you…for helping me with my…my…”

Realizing what he was about to say, I loudly blurted out, “Beachcombing! Your beachcombing, yeah, you’re welcome.”

Tilting his head, Castiel thankfully didn’t explore the topic of his secret nest any further after that.

Once we were off again with our drunken angel passenger, Sam asked, “What’s next?”

“I’ve been planning to take you all to the Carib territory,” Silvan replied. “If there’s one place on this island that’s unfairly overlooked, it’s there.”

“I read about that,” Sam realized. “Isn’t that where the original natives live?”

“Wait, original?” Dean asked. “I thought most of the people we’ve seen were the natives?”

“Most of the people on this island are descended from slaves that were brought here,” Silvan explained. “The Caribs are the native people who lived here first, or at least before colonists forced them into territories and committed countless other atrocities against them.”

Sam sighed in regret. “That’s good ol’ European colonialism for you.”

The Carib territory was located on the southeast side of the island. The entire community was relatively small from what we saw of it and was even more rural than most of the places we’d seen elsewhere on the island, something I’d thought to be nearly impossible. As with nearly everywhere else, tarps fluttered in the breeze and many buildings were worse for wear, but it was far from the most damage we’d seen. Much of the territory we passed through was sheltered from the coast by a mountain, so at least some of the the Caribs must have fared decently against Maria’s wrath.

The community was quiet and peaceful with some people out on an afternoon stroll. One man walked his two puppies on the side of the road while a couple carrying a parasol walked on the other. Most of the people here looked almost like Native Americans except for their tropical garb, and it wasn’t hard to see the parallels between the stories of the two peoples.

Sam provided educational commentary based on what he’d read in his study, telling us about how Venezuelans crossed the ocean in handmade canoes to reach this island centuries ago, and that the Caribs were descended from them. I knew how treacherous ocean swells and squalls could be in a fortified sailboat, but in a little wooden canoe carved from a tree? I couldn’t imagine.

Some of the humble houses had decorations put out on display, such as statues, bowls, and jewelry. I only realized after seeing the third example of this that it wasn’t decoration at all; these were wares being showcased for sale.

“Many Caribs make crafts to sell to tourists,” Silvan explained. “If you want to buy anything, it would be supporting the locals, so…”

We did end up stopping at a stand outside a hut near the edge of the community. The woman running it had necklaces, baskets, wooden carvings, charms…and adorable little bobblehead turtles carved from local wood. Castiel, still in a somewhat drunken state, gravitated towards those turts immediately.

The woman patiently explained what each item was made of and how she’d made them herself. Sam got a nice woven basket, Dean found a woven hat that really tickled him among the items, and Castiel fixated on the charms.

“What is this one?” Castiel asked, sounding just a little off-kilter but managing not to weird the woman out.

“That is a horse eye seedpod,” the woman replied. “It’s a symbol of fertility and commitment.”

“…I’ll take it,” Castiel decided after only a moment’s contemplation.

The seedpod was strung on an elastic band with a few colorful beads, but the charm itself was plain and odd at the same time. It was dark and round with a band dividing its smooth surface. It did look like a horse’s eye at a certain angle, but mostly it just looked like an overcooked macaroon.

I swear I’m not being insensitive to Dominican flora, that’s…literally what it looked like.

I perused the necklaces and selected one full of layered, thin pieces of colored wood. They made a lovely, light tinkling sound like a wooden windchime whenever they moved together, and I found myself absently running my fingers through them at random just to hear to hear their lovely instrumentation.

Just as we were leaving, Castiel hesitated by the turtles again. Through his alcohol-induced haze, he entered a staring contest with one of them and lightly tapped it on its bobblehead to send it bouncing.

“I’ll take that turtle,” Dean surprised everyone by stepping in and holding out a few bills of EC. “For my partner in crime, here. He really seems to like it.”

“Ah, partner in crime as in…?” the woman asked as she took the cash.

Glancing at Castiel, Dean specified, “As in…boyfriend, yeah.”

Beaming and stowing the payment, the woman ruminated, “It’s always the couples who get each other the turtles. You make a nice pair.”

Flushing, Dean managed to thank the woman, pulling Castiel back to the car with him. The angel was happily carrying his new turtle, still poking its bobbling head and staring into its large, painted eyes.

There were few things in this world that amused me more than Dean getting flustered over people finding his relationship with Castiel cute. The hunter still had traces of color in his face when I made it back into the car.

After making it the end of the territory, our convoy turned back around and drove through it in the opposite direction. It was wordlessly understood that the day’s activities were basically at their end, so we quietly stared out the windows as Silvan drove us back the way we came.

Somewhere in the middle of the hilly plains between villages, I noticed something that made my heart drop: those same strangling vines covered this portion of the landscape, and since there were virtually no trees in the way, I could see that they extended for what looked like a mile inland…

“Are those…?” I asked hesitantly.

“Those are the vines, yes,” Silvan confirmed grimly. “They really are an invasive plant. The volunteers can only take it one section at a time.”

“We only made a dent,” I breathed out in dismay. “Now it barely feels like we did anything…”

“You should think of it this way,” Silvan advised. “Even a little help is still help. It may not feel like much, but to all those farmers and drivers it made a big difference.” He stared out at the road, contemplating. “It’s relative. Healing the entire island in one fell swoop is impossible; it’s a combination of the little jobs people are doing that add up. I can tell you as a local who’s seen this going on for months, it does make a difference.”

Making a difference…that was exactly what I’d been hoping for, both to help the island and to possibly save my wish along the way. Maybe there was hope for that plan yet…

My spirits had lifted back up by the time we returned to the Villa. Silvan went off into the kitchen saying something about “baking,” and Castiel retreated upstairs to work on his nest as soon as he could. Whether the angel was still drunk or not was anyone’s guess, but he at least seemed to be sobering up.

That left me alone with Sam and Dean. After the entire incident with Vanessa, this was our first chance to put our heads together and try to figure out what happened.

“We’re sure she wasn’t the angel?” Dean opened up the topic, leaning in conspiratorially.

“She didn’t have wings,” I confirmed. “And…guys, I didn’t get any weird vibes about her. My intuition says she’s totally clean.”

“I got the same impression,” Sam agreed, though he was still troubled. “But it’s pretty suspicious that the vessel of one of the angels trying to hunt us down just happened to show up here…”

“How is she even here?” Dean hissed. “Vivel’s from our world, shouldn’t her vessel be, too?”

“I remember something my genie said once,” I recalled. “He said that there are different versions of the same people in other worlds. For example, the guys who play you on TV here…they look exactly like you, but they’re completely different people. Maybe Vanessa’s the same?”

“Still feels like a big coincidence, running into her here,” Dean grumbled. “Or maybe it’s a multiversal anomaly, I don’t know how all that works.”

The Winchesters momentarily looked at me like I might have all the answers, but I had none to speak of. “I don’t have a clue. Maybe…since she’s tied to you guys in one world, fate ended up drawing her to you in another? I’d be tempted to ask my genie if he wasn’t in a space cage right now.”

Sam shrugged. “Guess there’s nothing we can do then.”

“This still doesn’t feel right…” Dean fretted.

Shaking his head, Sam agreed, “I don’t feel good about it either, but…Cas will know if any angels come to this world. We’ll be okay.”

That powwow ended there, the brothers dispersing to other sides of the Villa to do whatever Winchesters did in their vacation time. Since I had nothing else to do, I decided to check in on our resident nesting angel to see what new progress he’d made.

I knocked on the wooden door to the master bedroom, hearing someone shifting within. “Cas? It’s me.”

“[Y-Y/N], I…” Castiel sounded quite troubled. “I…require some assistance.”

Stifling a laugh, I jokingly asked, “You dealing with a hangover? You’re gonna have to ask Sam or Dean for remedies to that, I’m not of drinking age yet-”

“No, I’ve had to sober rapidly to deal with this,” Castiel firmly interrupted. “I’m…” The angel let out a discomforted sound. “Please, come in.”

Realizing this might be serious, I cracked open the door and slipped inside, shutting it behind me. The sight that awaited me in the room was…not what I’d been expecting, to say the very least.

Castiel was standing off to the side. He looked normal for the most part aside from how he was spinning in place trying to grab at his wings. I realized why when I saw the state they were in; their feathers were loose, falling out at random to make room for new feathers underneath. Other feathers were strewn about the floor, mixing with the leaves already present there.

I just stood there and stared for a while, watching the poor angel struggle to grapple with his celestial appendages. Finally, I said, “You okay?”

Grunting and abandoning his efforts, Castiel squarely faced me. “My wings itch. It’s incredibly uncomfortable and it won’t _stop_.”

“You’re…molting,” I recognized. “Is this another bird instinct thing?”

“It must be,” Castiel absently answered, distracted by once again trying to reach behind himself to scratch at his falling feathers. “This is not a process angels are supposed to undergo. Our grace keeps our wings in pristine condition, molting is not even necessary.”

Still dumbfounded by what I was seeing, I shook myself and stepped further into the room. “Guess nesting instincts weren’t the only thing that carried over…what are you gonna do?”

“I don’t know,” Castiel sounded almost miserable. “This sensation is unbearable. I have only been able to reach the tips of my wings, and as for the rest…I can’t…” He spun around in place again, fruitlessly reaching for the disheveled feathers nearest his back. “This is _infuriating_. I don’t see how birds can deal with this on a yearly basis.”

“Have you tried making them incorporeal?”

“Yes, that only makes it worse. I can’t touch them when they’re in that state, and my grace…can’t…relieve…the itch…” He stretched as far as he could to reach the back of his wing to no avail.

Tentatively reaching towards him, I ventured, “Should I…?”

“No!” Castiel jerked away, folding his shedding wings closely against his back. “Touching a bird’s wings is an intimate gesture reserved for mates only; that avian instinct has also apparently carried over.”

Immediately lowering my hand, I firmly decided, “Okay yeah, definitely not doing that…so that means only Dean can touch them, right?”

A pained look took over Castiel’s face, and this time it wasn’t just from his itchy feathers. “Yes, but…he is going to question how I got into this state, and if that line of questioning leads to revealing the existence of this nest…”

“It shouldn’t,” I soothed. “Just tell him that…I dunno, it’s from the tropical climate or something. Or you could just outright tell him you’ve adopted avian instincts from being on earth for so long and leave it at that. You don’t even have to mention the nest.”

Closing his eyes and taking a calming breath, Castiel admitted, “You’re right. I’m just…overthinking this. I feel the need to be especially cautious with this secret.”

Snorting, I reminded him, “You sure weren’t worried about secrecy when you were drunk earlier.”

His feathers ruffled, dislodging several more that floated to the ground. “Remind me not to touch another alcoholic beverage for the duration of our stay on this island.”

“Can do!” I chirped, taking the chance to look around the room properly. I could see that the horse eye charm had been strung up around one of the bedposts, and the bobblehead turtle had been placed on display in the bookshelf.

“You made a bit of progress today,” I observed. “The horse eye was a nice idea. I get the commitment side of it, but I guess fertility doesn’t really apply to you and Dean, huh?”

“My instincts didn’t seem to care,” Castiel replied. “Truthfully, I was also going to buy that necklace you’re wearing, but you got to it before me.”

Glancing down at myself, I listened to the soothing rattling of the wooden claws around my neck. “You know, you can borrow it if you want. I bought it more for the sounds it makes than for wearing purposes.”

Before the angel could refuse the offer, I unclasped the necklace and handed it over to him. He dumbly blinked at it a few times before nodding and setting it up. Castiel chose what was in my opinion the best spot in the room: right at the top of the windowsill. Whenever even a light wind blew through, which in Dominica was very often, the wooden pieces would play their lovely song and dance about like chimes.

Castiel seemed happy with the placement as well. “This will make a lovely addition.” 

His smile faltered as another patch of feathers fell from his left wing, urging him to reach back and mindlessly scratch at the area, but it was just barely out of his reach.

Grunting in annoyance, the angel abruptly backed himself against the nearest section of open wall, rubbing his wing over its surface. “This…is…absolutely… _horrid_ ,” he ground out.

I felt bad for him, I really did, but something about seeing someone who was normally so stoic reduced to scratching himself against a wall like a wild bear made me want to laugh _really_ hard. I held it in for the sake of Castiel’s dignity, but just barely.

A knock sounded from the door, stopping Castiel in his tracks. The angel peeled away from the wall, brushing some loosened feathers from his trench coat.

“Cas? It’s Sam,” came the friendly voice from outside.

“What is it?” Castiel tersely asked, his wings still twitching in discomfort.

Sam hesitated for a few moments, surprised by Castiel’s tone. “Silvan has some snacks downstairs…and I was wondering if we were gonna play D&D tonight?”

“Right, that,” Castiel acknowledged, barely able to focus on the conversation. “I’ll be down in a minute.”

“…You okay?”

“I’m fine,” Castiel replied in a high-strung voice. “Just…busy.”

“Are you still drunk?” Sam wondered with a chuckle.

“No, I’m…” He huffed. “I’ll be down shortly.”

Quietly laughing and clearly not buying it, Sam walked away from the door.

Once Castiel had taken a few more minutes to scratch his wings against the wall as best as he could, we left and locked the room to head downstairs. I swiped the D&D gear from my own bedroom on the way there, spreading it all out on the table when we arrived.

The Winchesters entered with each of their character sheets, Dean handing over Castiel’s when he caught sight of the angel. Dean’s expression twisted in confusion when he saw Castiel’s wings, but the angel plastered them against his back to keep them as out of sight as possible and Dean didn’t pry. Sooner or later, he was bound to find out what going on, though…

The four of us got set up pretty quickly, the three players placing their sheets before them. The D&D set came with a single set of dice, so I spilled those out for them to share and passed out a pencil to each of them.

Silvan, who had been attending to something at the stove since we’d arrived, brought a steaming plate to the table. “I made some bakes to keep you from going hungry while you play,” he offered with a smile. “It’s a type of local bread, very popular.”

“Bakes?” I asked, picking up one of the pieces of golden, crispy dough. “It looks like they’re fried, not baked.”

“It would be more confusing to call them fries,” Silvan joked, leaving us to our game.

The start of our D&D campaign was delayed just a minute so we could try the bakes. They were almost like biscuits with a crunchy exterior and soft, oddly bitter-tasting interior. For me, it was love at first bite, and I knew I’d be talking with a mouthful of dough throughout much of the game.

“Okay,” I announced, clapping my hands together. “Let’s get this show on the road. I’ll set the scene for you guys…”

I looked down at the booklet I had in front of me. “I’m using a premade campaign that came with the supplies, but I’ve added some of my own details to make it more interesting…”  
Clearing my throat and putting on my best storytelling voice, I began, “So, all three of you have been contracted by a wise, respectable dwarf named Robertus Crooner, or as he’s more commonly known, Bobby Singer.”

“Hold up,” Dean forcefully interjected. “You put Bobby in this?”

“As an homage,” I defended. “I never got to meet the guy, but he’s practically one of my heroes.”

Dean accepted that and let me continue without another peep.

“Bobby has contracted you three for a very simple job: all you have to do is transport a wagon of supplies to a shop in a neighboring village called Winchester.”

“Didn’t you say the name Winchester wouldn’t exist in this world?” Sam pointed out.

“I was just trying to spur some creativity in you, Mr. Broadsword,” I smoothly countered, hoping I wouldn’t be interrupted anymore. “Bobby gathers you three and tells you that if you complete this simple task, he’ll assign you a much larger job afterwards. Should you make it all the way to the end of _that_ job…” I put on my best impression of Bobby’s voice. “’You idjits will never have to worry about gold another day in your life.’”

Dean snorted.

“Shut up,” I deflected before he could get out a word. “I’m a teenage girl trying to impersonate an old man, cut me some slack.”

Holding up his hands in surrender, Dean fell back into his chair and let me continue.

“Now…why is it that each of you are taking this job? Tell me your motivations so we can get some insight into your characters.”

“Marlow’s probably doing this for Bobby,” Dean came up with his reason first. “Bobby’s like family to him, so if the old man needs something done, he’s there.”

“That could be one of your character’s bonds,” I allowed. “Sam? What brings you here, aside from your brother’s insistence that you join him in this crazy quest?”

“I’d say that I’m doing it for Bobby too, except my character’s true neutral…” Sam pondered. “I got it. Aside from Marlow pestering me about it to no end, I need the money to pay the rest of my way through magic law school. College isn’t any cheaper in the world of D&D.”

“Creative…I like it,” I praised. “Cas? What about you?”

The angel was busy subtly scratching at his feathers. He froze when we all turned to him.

“Um…my character…wants to right the wrongs of his brethren and…they happen to be located in the village of Winchester?”

The angel looked incredibly uncertain, but I really liked his idea. “That’s perfect! We’re already getting some plot and character arcs in here.” I flipped to the next page of the booklet. “Now that Bobby’s sent you guys off, you’re in the wagon and on the road towards Winchester. It’s a covered wagon being pulled by a single, grumpy ox through a thick forest; you can’t see anywhere except on the path ahead of you. Tell me where you each are and what you’re doing.”

“I’m driving,” Dean immediately announced. “Even in a nerdy fantasy world, I drive.”

“Guess that means I’ve got shotgun,” Sam reasoned. “And…I’m probably reading some tome to keep up with my studies while we’re doing this.”

“You really think you can keep up with school _and_ take on a quest like this at the same time?” Dean doubted.

Getting defensive, Sam shot back, “I couldn’t do it in real life, but this is different!”

“Whatever,” Dean dropped it. “It’s your GPA’s funeral, Sammy.” He faltered. “Er, wait…what’s your character’s name again?”

“Andus.”

“Andy. I’ll call you Andy.”

Sam sighed but accepted that, more than used to Dean’s nicknames.

All eyes turned to Castiel again, and again the angel was busy trying to sneakily scratch at his feathers under the table. He froze.

“Cas, are you okay?” Dean laughed out.

“I’m fine,” he answered a little too quickly. “Um…since he is a bird-person, Cassius would be perched on top of the wagon meditating, as was taught to him during his time with his brethren.”

“That’s the scene,” I concluded. “You’re all three doing your things, and so far, this ride has been utterly uneventful. But one of you sees something on the path up ahead…probably Marlow, since he’s watching the road.”

“What do I see?” Dean demanded.

“It doesn’t work like that,” I chided, holding out a twenty-sided die. “You have to roll for perception; that’ll tell you how much you notice. The higher a number you roll, the better your action is. The lower you roll, the worse it is.”

“A game of chance, huh?” Dean took the die and shook it in cupped hands. “Almost just like gambling, except…way less cool.”

The die flew from his hands across the table, landing on a fourteen.

“Fourteen,” Dean cheered. “That’s good, right?”

“…Meh, good enough,” I conceded. “You see another wagon overturned on the side of the road. It’s a little worse for wear, and the two horses attached to the front of it are laying on the ground. Cassius, you can probably smell the horse blood from all the way down the road since your race has heightened senses.”

Giving his wing one final, fruitless scratch that sent several more feathers tumbling to the floor, Castiel laced his hands together atop the table to give the game his entire focus. “What is happening?”

Detaching himself from his role, Dean leaned back in his chair to try and peer at Castiel’s wings. “Cas, are you _sure_ you’re-”

“I’m fine!” Castiel snapped, and everyone shrank away. He only seemed to realize what tone he’d taken a few seconds later. “I…apologize, I didn’t mean to sound angry. I’m dealing with something that’s making me rather irritable right now…I’ll tell you about it later, Dean, once this game is over.”

Softening, Dean calmly assured, “That’s fine, Cas, just wanted to make sure. Don’t want any more miscommunication, right?”

“Yes, no miscommunication,” Castiel firmly agreed, smiling in his direction.

“Now,” Dean got back into the game. “What are you gonna do about that horse blood smell?”

“Right…the smell would probably break me from my meditative trance. Since I have heightened senses, is there anything else I can perceive?”

I handed him the die. “Roll a perception check and add your stats to it.”

Imitating what he’d seen Dean doing earlier, Castiel rolled the die and consulted his sheet. “My number is…seventeen.”

“You definitely see quite a bit, then,” I allowed. “From your higher vantage point, you peer into the woods beside the toppled wagon and see two figures rustling in the bushes, and you can just faintly hear them speaking…they’re trying to be quiet, and their tones do not sound friendly.”

Adopting a determined expression, Castiel asserted, “I should warn my travelling companions.”

“What do you say to them?”

Put on the spot, Castiel cleared his throat. “Um…’Andus, Marlow, there are two unfriendly people in the woods ahead’…that is what I would say.”

“I’d stop that whole wagon then,” Dean said. “Based on all my experience, that sounds like trouble.”

“I don’t think you have to be an assassin to realize that’s a bad thing,” Sam pointed out. “Andus closes his book and stows it in the back. Studying will have to wait for later, he supposes.”

Getting really into the game myself, I asked, “What now? Do you guys wanna launch a surprise attack, or lie in wait?”

“Attack,” Dean states. “If they’re bad guys, I want ‘em gone.”

“Alright…roll for stealth to see if you can sneak up on them.”

Confident as ever, Dean rolled the die…and it landed on a three. Even his stat bonuses wouldn’t save him from that awful roll.

“Hmm…” I hummed in dismay. “Unfortunately for you, you only manage to take a few steps out of the wagon before you step on a twig and break it; very loudly. Two figures burst out of the bushes: angry Goblins brandishing clubs.” Grinning and flipping to another page in my booklet, I instructed, “Now we roll for initiative to see who attacks first!”

Sam got the highest roll, so he announced, “I’m gonna cast a spell, Magic Missile, right from the wagon. I’m aiming for both of them.”

“Roll for your attacks; you know how to do that already, right?”

He’d already rolled a couple of dice before I could get an answer. He got an eighteen for accuracy…and a whopping full load of damage.

“Okay, wow…” I was really impressed by his luck. “Turns out all that time you spent studying magic has really paid off. You fire two blasts of magic that hone in on both of your opponents, and they shoot right through the Goblins’ skulls. They fall to the ground, dead on impact.”

“Just like that?” Dean was dumbfounded and a little disappointed.

I shrugged. “Sam got lucky on his rolls. Don’t worry, there will be plenty of other chances to fight stuff as we go on. Now then…what do you all want to do _now_?”

Crossing his arms, Dean grumbled, “I’m gonna go over to both of the Goblins and stab them with my knife because I was itching to kill something evil.”

“You do that, and…congratulations, they’re both still dead. But you do get out some of your pent-up aggression.”

Taking the more practical course of action, Sam decided, “I’m going to investigate the other wagon.”

“Roll investigation,” I instructed.

He did, getting a sixteen.

“You look inside the wagon, and it’s completely empty. However, you notice an insignia carved on the fabric covering the inside…it’s the symbol of the Crooner family. That must mean this was Bobby’s wagon.”

“Oh, no,” Dean interjected, agitated. “As soon as Marlow finds out about that, he is pissed. He’s gonna find whoever ambushed Bobby, and they’d better pray they kept him alive and well, because otherwise they are gonna pay.”

“Fair enough,” I chuckled, amused by Dean’s protectiveness of his family even in a fictional game. “Cas, you doing anything?”

“Can I attempt to revitalize the horses?” the angel asked.

“You don’t have any spells at a high enough level for that, so no.”

“…Fine. In that case, I’ll investigate the woods where the Goblins were hiding.”

With my guidance, Castiel rolled a thirteen in investigation.

“You don’t see a whole lot…” I told him “But, there is an obvious pathway through the woods nearby. It looks fresh, like it was made by something— probably a person —being dragged through the dirt. You surmise that this must have been Bobby.”

“We’re following that path,” Dean took the initiative. “You guys with me?”

“What about the wagon?” Sam, ever astute, reminded his brother.

“We hide it in the woods, simple as that,” Dean supplied. “Now can we go?”

“Bobby may be in danger,” Castiel agreed. “We should follow the path as swiftly as possible.”

Nodding, I reentered my storytelling mode. “You all obscure the wagon behind some bushes; you struggle with the ox for a bit, but it complies when it finds a nice patch of grass to chew on. The three of you swiftly follow the path per Cassius’s recommendation, and it ends up leading into a dark cave. Andus can see in the dark somewhat thanks to his elvish ancestry, but the only thing in sight is a stone pathway and a lot of rocks.”

“Don’t I possess a light spell?” Castiel remembered, scanning over his sheet. “I would like to use that so we may see better.”

I allowed it. “You cast Light, and one of the loose rocks starts glowing as is if it was a lantern. I’m assuming you want to take that with you and keep going into the cavern?”

Castiel simply nodded.

“You take the lantern rock and enter the dreary cave. Everything inside is damp and dripping, and you don’t see a sign of life anywhere. A few minutes in, you come across a bridge. Someone’s standing there and sees the light from your rock lantern. He calls out, ‘who’s there?’”

“Are we to assume this is another Goblin?” Castiel asked.

“He looks awfully disformed and hunched over like a Goblin, so that’s a safe assumption to make,” I divulged.

Clicking his tongue, Dean offered, “I added my extra points to my charisma stat, so…I got this. I’m gonna walk right up and bullshit my way through getting past him.”

“What do you say to him?”

Thinking about it, Dean pulled together, “Uh…’Hey, listen, my friends and I think we’ve got the wrong cave…this wouldn’t happen to be the Goblin cave where kidnapped people get taken, would it?’”

Raising an eyebrow, I commanded, “You’re gonna have to roll a high charisma for that one to work.”

Defiantly rolling the die, Dean got…a 1. No stat modifiers would save him.

“The Goblin doesn’t trust you in the slightest,” I relay. “In fact, he’s quite belligerent that you even know where this cave is and what it’s used for. He mentions something about a boss and that he will not be pleased to find out that strangers have wandered into the cave. He looks like he might attack you at any second.”

“Okay, plan B,” Dean hurriedly changed course. “Don’t I get some surprise attack bonus for being a rogue?”

“If you wanna use that, go right ahead. Roll to see if you succeed or not.”

With the bad luck he’d been having so far, Dean rolled this die for an extra long time. It tumbled across the table to reveal…

“Nineteen!” Dean pumped his fist in the air. “I kill that sucker with my knife right then and there!”

Grinning in private amusement at how invested Dean was getting in this, I described, “Before the Goblin can even think about attacking you, you pull your knife out with practiced precision and slice it clean through his throat. He stumbles and falls, choking through his leaking wound, and falls off the side of the bridge into a stream below.”

“You’re making this way more violent than I would have expected,” Sam commented.

“Hey, I watch your show,” I defended. “I’ve seen my fair share of violence.”

“Let’s just keep moving,” Dean impatiently refocused. “We have to find Bobby.”

Sam and I shared a highly amused look. Dean really was loving this game, even though he would probably deny it later.

“You cross the bridge and come into another section of the cave that splits into two parts: down one path, you can hear rushing water, and down the other you hear nothing but the echo of your footsteps.”

“I think we should go towards the water,” Sam piped up. “It may give us a definitive path to follow, but let’s be careful in case there are any more Goblins.”

No one objected to that idea, so we went with it. “You take the path towards the water, and it leads you to a spring with several clear pools. There’s an ornate metal door against one of the walls being guarded by two more Goblins, and since you had the mind to be careful, they don’t notice you. What now?”

“That door’s gotta lead to the boss, right?” Dean guessed. “The last Goblin said something about his boss, surely he’s our guy.”

“That’s a fair assumption to make,” I acknowledged. “Whatever’s behind this door, it’s well-guarded.”

“Then let’s charge over there and-”

“Hold on, Dean,” Sam calmly interrupted. “We may not have to go in guns- or, swords blazing. I have a spell that can charm people.” He pointed to the words “Charm Person” listed under the spells on his sheet. “I’ll get them to let us by without any problem.”

“Charm Person…” Dean read. An entertained grin appeared on his face. “Hold up, are you gonna go over there and _flirt_ your way past those Goblins?”

Rolling his eyes, Sam didn’t dignify his brother with an answer. “I’m walking over there and casting Charm Person despite my brother’s pestering.”

“Hey, I’m not judging, Andy, I’m just sayin’ I didn’t know Goblins were your type!”

Unable to hold back a spurt of giggles, I trained my face back to a serious expression when Sam narrowed his eyes at me. “Okay, so…you go over there, and the Goblins notice you immediately. They’re on the defensive, but they don’t look like they’re going to attack you yet. Roll to see if your spell succeeds.”

The die landed with, of course, a natural twenty.

“Your Charm Person spell definitely succeeds,” I announce. “They’re putty in your hands…now, what do you say to them?”

Trying to look as dignified as possible, Sam spoke, “’If it wouldn’t be any trouble, gentlemen, my companions and I have an appointment with your boss.’”

“They’re a little too busy looking at you with googly eyes to respond immediately, but they do snap out of it after a few seconds. One of them winks and assures you that’s totally fine. They step out of the way and the door is all yours.”

Thinking to himself, Sam adds, “I may as well do this too since I got such a high roll…I tell them, ‘And while you’re at it, why don’t you take a break? You and the other goblins around here work so hard, I’m sure, you should all take some time off.’”

“They nod enthusiastically and take off down the path. They eye you as they leave, and one of them hesitates, pulls out a piece of paper, writes something on it, and hands it to you. He suggestively winks at you one more time before exiting the chamber. You read the slip of paper, and…it’s the fantasy world equivalent of a phone number.”

Scrunching up his face, Sam announced, “I crumple up the paper and toss it into the spring.”

“Ooh, cold-blooded, Andy,” Dean playfully chided.

“Andus doesn’t have time for romance, especially not with a cave Goblin. We need to keep moving.”

“Right,” Dean got back on track. “Let’s go through the door.”

“You open the door…” I trailed off for dramatic effect. “Inside is a large cavern full of gold, treasures, and miscellaneous supplies. There’s a throne in the center of it all and sitting atop it is a Tiefling.”

“A what?” Dean interrupted.

“You didn’t read about all of the races, did you?” I assumed, shaking my head in exaggerated disappointment. “Tieflings are kind of like the D&D equivalent of demons. They’re serpent like, have smooth skin, tails, and dark eyes.”

“Okay then, I already don’t like this guy,” Dean concluded.

“This Tiefling has dark red skin and crimson, pupiless eyes. He’s wearing a dapper suit and does not look particularly pleased at the moment. His displeasure only grows when he spots you three. He bellows out in a gravelly voice…” I summoned up my best version of a sarcastic British accent. “’Great, adventurers…just what I need right now…’”

Eyes widening in disbelief, Sam started, “Is he supposed to be-”

“’Name’s Fergun Cloudserpent, but please, call me Crowley.’”

Dean raised a hand and let it slam back onto the table. “I friggin’ knew it. Are you gonna put all the people we know in this game?”

“As many as I can,” I replied coyly. “What do you want to do now that you’re here?”

“I’m marching right up to his throne,” Dean declared. “I’m gonna look him dead in his soulless eyes and say, ‘Where’s Bobby, you son of a bitch?’”

“Roll for intimidation on that one,” I decided.

All the die offered Dean was a measly two.

“Crowley doesn’t even flinch at your demands,” I imparted. “He sneers down at you and replies, ‘I don’t even know who you lot are, and you expect me to give you intel willy-nilly? You’re going to have to try a lot harder than that; you have no leverage.’”

Dean turned to his brother. “Andus? You wanna pull out Charm Person right about now?”

“On _him_?” Sam demanded incredulously. “Nuh-uh, no way.”

“What weapon do I have…” Castiel muttered to himself, eyes darting over his sheet. He swung back up to face the rest of the table when he found what he was looking for. “May I take my short sword and hold it against his neck for leverage?”

“Sure,” I huffed, caught off guard by his sudden brutality. “Just roll dexterity for it.”

Sending the die rolling across the table, Castiel announced, “Fifteen. With my stats, that adds up to sixteen.”

“You manage the maneuver,” I allowed. “Crowley is too busy being overly-confident in himself to react when you run up to him and press your blade right against his shiny, red neck. He freezes up immediately; you’ve got him pinned.”

A demented grin flickered over Castiel’s features. “I say to him, ‘You’re going to tell us the location of Bobby Singer, or else I’m going to sever your filthy, demonic head right from your body.’”

Jeebus. Pent-up aggression fueled by an old grudge against a demon king, much? I wasn’t even going to make him roll intimidation for that one; I wasn’t on the receiving end of it and _I_ felt intimidated.

“Um…quick side note,” Dean muttered. “Soon as Marlow sees that, he leans over to his brother and says, ‘Okay, this bird guy is officially awesome.’”

Smirking, Sam replied, “‘Didn’t know birds were your type, Marlow.’”

That got an actual blush out of Dean; whether it was because he’d gotten too in-character or not, I couldn’t tell. Regardless, I pressed on with the plot.

“Crowley…swallows and tries to appear cool, but he’s sweating with fear,” I described. “He says, ‘Alright, feathers, no need to get so handsy…I don’t know where Mr. Singer is.’”

Scowling, Castiel said, “I press my sword tighter against his throat.”

“He holds up a hand and sputters, ‘Don’t know where he is _anymore_! Honestly, you really ought to let people express themselves fully before you go threatening them with decapitation…’”

“Where was he?” Castiel muttered darkly. If I hadn’t known this was a game and happened to overhear him, I would have thought he really was threatening someone.

“’These incompetent little goblins brought him here under my orders.’”

“What did you want with him?” Sam piped up.

“’Me? I didn’t want anything with the old dwarf; he smelled like grease and did nothing but gripe the whole time he was here. I was contracted to bring him in, an underling of mine carried him off some time ago.’”

“Who contracted you?” Sam continued the interrogation.

“’I hardly know who he is, he just gave me a name and a business deal I couldn’t refuse.’ He gestures to all the gold around him. ‘Where do you think all this came from?’”

“Give us the name,” Castiel insisted, getting way too into character.

“Crowley hesitates, but he glances down at the blade against his throat and gives you a name.” I paused. “’The Black Star.’”

“And what does this Black Star want with Bobby?” Dean asked in a low voice, also getting back into character.

“’Do I look like I know? I couldn’t figure out for the life of me what could possibly be so valuable about some dwarf mechanic, but the Black Star insisted it would be worth my while. Bloody lot of good it’s gotten me so far…not only have I had to work with these moronic Goblins, but now I’m being held hostage in my own throne room! I’m a king, I shouldn’t have to deal with this!”

Dean huffed a laugh. “King of what?”

“’…Goblins, mostly. And anyone meek enough to submit their will to me. But you’d be surprised how many people you can rope into obeying you through contracts alone; I make a pretty penny. Speaking of underlings, the one that took your precious Mr. Singer should be back by now…I don’t know where he is.’”

“Tell us the name of the underling who took Bobby,” Castiel demanded.

“Crowley looks like he’s about to tell you, but…a smile creeps onto his face and he looks behind you. He says, ‘Actually, boys, looks like our time is up. I was wondering when my ride would get here.’”

The three players looked at each other in confusion. There really was something to be said for playing the role of a dungeonmaster and throwing a wrench in your player’s expectations.

“You hear a low growling sound from behind you,” I described. “Do you look to see what it is?”

Dean blinked. “Um…yeah? We kinda have to.”

“You all turn to look at what made the sound and see a massive dog with black fur, red eyes, and lips drawn back in a snarl to reveal drool-soaked fangs. Do you engage?”

Sighing, Dean conceded, “Yeah, I draw my knife and-”

“As the three of you are preparing to fight off this dog, Crowley’s tail sweeps out from behind him and lashes into you, sending you each flying across the room.”

While the three of them groaned at that turn of events, I rolled to check how much damage they would each take. Sam and Castiel got off pretty easy, but as for poor Dean…he lost three fourths of his feeble level one health.

“Oof,” I groaned in sympathy. “Andus and Cassius land in the piles of gold, which cushions their fall. But Marlow…collides with a stalagmite that breaks into pieces from the force of the blow. He’s hanging on by one health point, battered, bruised, and barely conscious.”

“Dammit…” Dean muttered.

“Now that he’s gotten you out of the way, Crowley leaps onto his dog’s back and swipes a large handful of the gold laying around. He calls to you from across the room, ‘This is where I take my leave. If you really must, I do have your dwarf’s bodyguard still tied up at the other end of the cave, so feel free to take her.’ His dog charges out of the room through the doorway.”

“I would like to pursue him,” Castiel said with utmost seriousness. “I have wings, I can keep up with him.

“You can if you want to, but…” I gave the angel a pointed look. “As your DM, I’m going to have remind you that you have a teammate near death, and you’re the only healer in your party. If you take too long to catch Crowley and don’t make it back in time…”

Struggling for a moment, Castiel conceded, “…I’m staying and healing Dean. I-I mean…Marlow.”

“Roll to see how much you heal.”

The die landed on a fifteen.

“Your healing magic patches him up pretty well,” I gauge. “He’s not perfect, still got some bruises, but he’s not in danger of passing out and any internal damage has been healed. He’s got…I’ll say three quarters of his health back.”

“Thank goodness…” Sam breathed out.

“So although Crowley’s gotten away, Marlow’s all healed and you have a lead on a bodyguard that was apparently accompanying Bobby. What do you do?”

Dean smirked. “Now that he’s feeling better…Marlow’s gonna take his chance to make a move on Cassius here since he’s gotten up in his personal space to heal him.”

Sam shook his head like he’d been expecting something like this happen while Castiel faintly blushed.

Snickering, I asked, “What do you say to him?”

Smirk growing, Dean looked right at Castiel. “’Thanks for patchin’ me up, Cassius. You pulled out some pretty sweet moves on Crowley earlier…you ever wanna get up in my personal space again, just ask.’ Then I wink at him with classic Winchester- er, Broadsword charm and stand up like nothing happened.”

I turned to Castiel. “And what does Cassius think of this turn of events?”

The angel forced the blush out of his cheeks. “Um…Cassius is quite flattered and pleased with the offer, and…stores it away in his immediate memory for future reference.”

“Andus loudly pretends to gag in the corner,” Sam added.

“Great,” I dryly concluded, holding in my laughter for the sake of the plot. “Now how about that bodyguard?”

“Right, next course of action is finding her,” Dean affirmed.

“And…” I flipped the packet closed. “I think that’s where we’ll end it tonight.”

“Already?” Dean was disappointed, but he schooled his face into a neutral expression when everyone looked at him. “I mean…yeah, god, I wasn’t sure that would ever end…”

“You loved every second of it, Dean,” Sam teased, nudging him with his elbow.

“Okay, it…wasn’t nearly as lame as I’d been expecting,” Dean begrudgingly admitted. “Maybe there’s something to be said for this roleplaying thing after all.”

Game finished and plate of bakes consumed, everyone was satisfied after a productive day. Somewhere in the middle of our campaign the sun had set, casting the Villa’s exterior in darkness. After Sam and Dean had left with their sheets, Castiel remained seated while I packed up the supplies.

“How are your feathers?” I asked sympathetically.

“Not well,” Castiel replied, his voice strained. “It took everything in me not to get distracted by them during our game, and…” He huffed in annoyance and reached for them again, tangling himself and his wings around the back of his chair.

Frowning in concern, I rounded the table to get a better look at the situation. Many of Castiel’s old feathers had fallen out on the floor around his seat, unnoticed by anyone else at the table. His wings twitched at random and his feathers were a mess, new plumage forcing the old outwards. The loose feathers stuck out at random alarming angles above the fresh layer of feathers.

“You really need to do something about this,” I fretted. “If no one except Dean can touch them, you need to tell him about it.”

“I’m aware,” Castiel sighed. “I still have unfounded concerns that telling him will lead to him discovering the secret ahead of schedule. These instincts come with a very obnoxious paranoia regarding that…”

“If it helps, my intuition says you’ll be totally fine,” I encouraged.

That seemed to be enough for him. Puffing himself up in both wings and body, Castiel stood up from his chair and began gathering the feathers covering the ground. Once he had an armful of them and had grabbed his character sheet from the table, he steadied himself.

“I’m going to add these to the decorations,” he announced, flapping his wings to teleport.

I was hit with a gust of wind and a face full of feathers the instant Castiel disappeared. Spitting one of the fluffy downs out of my mouth, I put down the D&D stuff to begin gathering the extra feathers dislodged by Castiel’s teleportation.

Thankfully most of the feathers were small and downy, so I was able to fit them all in my pockets without a fuss. Just as I was emerging from the kitchen with my pockets full of fluff and my hands full of gamebooks, I caught Castiel coming down the stairs towards his and Dean’s temporary room.

The angel paused when he saw me. I gave him a thumbs up and jerked my head towards the bedroom, signaling for him to go in. Though he hesitated, Castiel gathered his confidence and strode towards the door, opening and closing it behind him.

Setting my books on the ground, I leaped into the hammock to take in the night’s events. I wanted to ensure that Castiel would tell Dean everything he needed to know so he could find some blessed relief from his molting.

Speaking of Dean, the hunter was already in the bedroom clad in his typical nightwear of shorts and a t-shirt. He looked a little startled by Castiel’s sudden entrance but was glad to see the angel all the same.

“I was just about to go looking for you,” Dean greeted. He leaned over slightly to try and glimpse Castiel’s wings, but the angel resolutely plastered them against his back.

Dean immediately caught on that something was amiss. “Cas, what’s wrong?”

“I…” Castiel composed himself, visibly resisting the urge to grapple at his itchy feathers. “I need to tell you about what was irritating me during our game.”

“Is it something with your wings?” Deep worry overtook Dean’s voice then, and he stepped forward in another bid to look at the appendages.

Castiel stepped back on instinct, making his wings look as small as possible. “Yes, I…I’m not sure how to explain it, but…”

“Show me?” Dean gently requested, giving the angel every chance to refuse.

Steeling himself, Castiel slowly spread his wings out to their full size. Put on display like that, it was so easy to see how disheveled and unkept they were. If I hadn’t known their appearance was caused by molting, I would’ve thought they were horribly damaged.

“…Oh my god,” Dean breathed out, his eyes wide. “You…how did…” He went into a frenzy as he approached them, aimlessly reaching towards them but not touching. “Did you get into a fight? Is this some kind of feather sickness, what is this?”

“I am not ill,” Castiel denied. “Nor did I fight anyone. I’m…molting.”

A few of his feathers fluttered out of place and drifted to the ground to illustrate his point.

“…Molting?” Dean repeated, his worry not abating in the slightest.

Castiel nodded.

“Do angels do that?” Dean wondered, eyeing the wings in disbelief.

“Normally, no. Our wings are cared for by our grace. But…”

A new kind of worry overtook Dean then. “Is something wrong with your grace?”

“No, not at all,” Castiel assured. “It’s just that…my grace can’t help me with this. What’s happening here is complicated. Angelic senses are primarily defined by wavelengths, and since I have been on earth for so long now and was cut off from my grace as a fallen angel for a time…my own wavelengths have inadvertently crossed with those here on earth.”

Dean blinked. “Which means…?”

“It means that…I have come to adopt some avian instincts.”

“And now you’re molting.” It wasn’t a question, rather a statement.

Nodding uselessly, Castiel let his wings slump back into a resting position. Several more feathers detached from different spots on both wings, and Castiel actually _whimpered_ as he spun in a little circle trying to reach them.

“Can I help?”

Castiel stopped chasing his own wings and straightened himself out. “Please…” he pled weakly. “It itches unbearably.”

“How long have you been dealing with this?” Dean wondered as he stepped towards the angel.

“Since we returned to the Villa; that is when it became most obvious…”

“Jeez…” Dean eyed the wings uncertainly. “Let’s see what I can do, then…”

Not entirely sure of himself, Dean ran a tentative hand over one of Castiel’s wings. The angel whimpered again, this time from relief, and pushed the wing against Dean’s fingers, seeking friction. Catching on quick, Dean put more pressure on the wing, digging his nails along the feathers and harmlessly pulling a few out along the way.

“That’s perfect,” Castiel sighed out, instinctively slumping forwards to lay his head against Dean’s shoulder.

Stumbling under the unexpected weight, Dean chuckled uncertainly and brushed his other hand through the remaining wing. “This good?”

“Exactly what I need, yes,” Castiel contentedly confirmed.

More confident that he was doing it right, Dean reached behind the wings to scritch where they met Castiel’s back. A flurry of down feathers rained across the bedroom floor and Castiel sighed in sheer relief.

“That was the area I couldn’t reach no matter how hard I tried,” Castiel relayed, burying his face in Dean’s neck. “You are phenomenal, Dean. Remind me later once my new plumage has fully grown in and I will give you a wing massage in return for this.”

“You don’t have to repay me,” Dean gently declined. “I’m just doing this for you, I’m not expectin’ anything in return.”

Humming and faintly swaying under Dean’s thoughtful ministrations, Castiel murmured, “What did I ever do to deserve you?”

Dean’s hands slowed to a standstill. Castiel pulled free of the crook of Dean’s neck, uncertainly hovering over his shoulder.

“Cas…” Dean said, a soft but unyielding accusation. “You’re always talkin’ to me about all this ‘not feeling worthy’ stuff, but…that’s just me, right? That’s not you too, is it?”

The angel’s silence spoke a thousand words.

Sighing, Dean started, “Cas-”

“I’ve committed atrocities,” Cas resolutely interrupted, “against humankind and my own family. I have made mistakes that hurt many people, you included, and…” He let his head fall sideways against Dean’s neck. “I think it’s fair for me wonder how I could possibly be worthy after all of that.”

Well, _that_ sure took a turn.

Taking this in, Dean breathed out loudly and brought his arms up to wrap around Castiel. “Were you ever gonna mention this to me?”

“I told you how I felt about my actions after returning from Purgatory, but it never came up again. I was more concerned about your own struggles with self-worth.”

“Oh god, Cas.” Dean huffed a humorless laugh. “You can’t go putting me before everything else all the time, you have to take care of yourself.”

“That’s a tad hypocritical coming from you, if you don’t mind my saying.”

“I know,” Dean lightly agreed. “And I’m workin’ on practicing what I preach, I really am. But you should be doing the same thing, too. I mean, you didn’t even mention this molting thing until now, and I’m guessing that had something to do with me?”

Not sure what to say, Castiel leaned closer in Dean’s embrace and was accepted by comforting, squeezing arms.

Sighing to himself, Dean murmured, “We’re both a coupla self-doubting doofuses, I’ll give you that. But we’re in this together, don’t forget that.”

“Of course we are,” Castiel agreed without hesitation. His wings twitched. “My, um…my feathers are still-”

“I gotcha,” Dean assured. “But this discussion is not over.”

Castiel nodded fervently and nudged his wings against Dean’s hands.

“Here,” Dean said, pulling away. “Sit on the bed.”

Looking a little lost, Castiel followed Dean’s directions and sat cross-legged on the mattress. Dean sat himself down behind the angel, holding up his hands and flexing his fingers as he considered how best to approach this.

I couldn’t see very well around Castiel’s wings, but based on the pleased hum the angel made, it was safe to assume that Dean had resumed preening. Crawling across the hammock, I peered through the slats from a different angle and confirmed that Dean was scritching through his angel’s wings, gingerly pulling loose feathers and setting them aside.

“I wish you’d come to me about this sooner,” Dean lamented, running his fingers back and forth along the wings. “Even if you didn’t wanna bother me with it, you could’ve at least gotten [Y/N] to pluck some of these feathers.”

“I couldn’t have,” Castiel refuted. “Birds don’t let anyone touch their wings save for their mate. That instinct has also carried over to me.”

Accepting this with a hum, Dean mused, “So you think of me like your mate, then?”

A fluster overtook Castiel’s face at that, his wings ruffling up so much that their feathers could be seen standing on end even through the tangle of old and new plumage.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Dean assumed, equal parts amused and pleased.

A few minutes of companionable silence passed while Dean scratched and itched and brushed through the unruly feathers. Castiel looked like he was in a state of pure bliss the entire time, a smile always present on his face.

A yawn tore past Dean’s lips, but he kept working. Castiel’s smile faltered for the first time in minutes when he noticed.

“Dean, if you’re tired, you should sleep,” Castiel advised.

“I’m fine,” Dean insisted, sounding very tired. “You need me to keep scratching your itch.”

Swiveling around and pulling his wings away from Dean’s reach, Castiel lectured, “Didn’t we just finish discussing how you’re working to practice what you preach? Don’t put your needs above mine, Dean. You’re no good to my wings half-asleep anyways.”

Mumbling something, Dean let Castiel gently push him back onto the bed and tuck him in. The angel turned his wings incorporeal for a second to slip his trench coat off, then immediately returned them to their corporeal state so he could itch them if necessary. Folding and carefully tossing the coat towards its spot on the dresser, Castiel kicked off his shoes and crawled under the blankets, keeping his wings tucked close to his body.

“You wanna cuddle up even with your molt?” Dean inquired drowsily.

“Provided I am in a comfortable position, yes, I would.”

Dean shifted beneath the blankets so that he was laying on his back. “Since you’re the one with the itchy feathers, you lay however you want, mkay?”

“Thank you, Dean.”

Sheets shifted somewhat awkwardly around Castiel’s wings as the angel crossed the bed. Pausing to consider his options, he opted to drape his upper half across Dean’s chest and let his wings splay out across the rest of the bed. Dean hummed something and pulled his angel closer, entangling their legs.

One of the wings twitched again and the blankets visibly twitched with them. One of Dean’s hands came up to bury his fingers into the base of Castiel’s wing, loosely scritching until the appendage settled down again.

“You often insist that I am too good to you, Dean,” Castiel sighed happily. “But I could say much the same thing about you.”

“Shh,” Dean replied, already mostly asleep. “Yer worthy, Cas. You might not believe it, but y’are…”

Relishing the affectionate words, Castiel quietly whispered, “Thank you, my human.”

“Yer welcome, angel.” Dean promptly fell silent as sleep claimed him, his fingers still resting in Castiel’s feathers.

Dear lord these two were gonna kill me. On my tombstone, it would say: _Here lies [Y/N], killed from a potent but deadly solution of angst and fluff._

Picking up my D&D stuff, I ascended the stairs to my own room and got settled in for the night. I spared a thought for how Castiel was going to deal with his itchy wings in the days to come, but the darkness and murmurs of frogs outside enticed me to bed. The ocean roared in my ears as I was carried off to dreams of sailing the Caribbean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Those dungeons sure were somthin', eh? And how about those dragons? 8D
> 
> ~~I just love fantasy worlds sue me~~
> 
> But yee, it's true that the Caribs/Kalinago are a massively overlooked part of Caribbean history. Like...y'all, they're some of the original natives that inhabited the islands, and the population on Dominica is about all that's left. Yaaaaaaay 17th century colonialism *extremely sarcastic "woo"*
> 
> Picture of Carib treasures belongs to me. And yes, they are real Carib crafts I was lucky enough to obtain when I visited the territory. ^w^


	7. In which you obsess over details, Dean gets a little too excited about mead, Castiel takes a birdbath, and Sam adopts a son

_5/29/18_

The morning sun roused me at 6:30 AM the next day, as had become routine. After basking in the sunlight for a few minutes, I forced myself out of bed and prepared for the day ahead.

Outside in the garden, I caught Sam and Silvan returning from their daily morning walk with the dogs. This time, Eve and Jack were trotting right at Sam’s heels and happily leaping up to meet him halfway when he offered pets. Sam Winchester was happiest with a canine, it would seem.

I didn’t see hide nor tail of Dean and Castiel, so I assumed them to still be in their room. I passed the earliest part of the morning reviewing some of the D&D campaign packet I’d used last night and wrote out some notes and maps to keep myself on track for the next round.

Just as I was drawing a particularly delicate line on my map, wind whooshed around in my room and a mini tornado of feathers spun around. My hand swerved across the paper and ruined my map’s perfect line, but I set it aside because I knew who had just arrived.

Castiel was standing front and center in my room. His wings didn’t look much better than yesterday, aside from the patchiness of his feathers being slightly more contained.

Eyeing him sympathetically, I checked, “How ya doin’?”

“Not especially well,” Castiel rumbled. “But I am at least better than I was yesterday.”

Trying to look on the bright side, I pointed out, “It doesn’t look like you have quite as many feathers sticking out this time!”

“That is because I followed more instincts and attempted to bathe this morning,” Castiel informed me. “It did not have the intended effect.”

“Did you like…take a shower, or…?”

“No. I waded into the pool and attempted to wash my wings in the water…my feathers only clogged the pumps and the chlorine made them stick together uncomfortably. Then I went down to the beach and tried the same thing in the ocean; all I ended up with was an awful chill and salt in my feathers that amplified the itch.”

“…Yikes.” I knew what chlorine and ocean water did to hair, but I couldn’t imagine the effect it would have on massive wings like Castiel’s.

“So we need to get you a birdbath?” I surmised.

Castiel nodded. “My instincts drew me towards water, so I assume that would help. But…” He grunted as his wings twitched and itched again. “The cold water of a pool or ocean did more harm than good. I believe a warm body of water would be far more effective at treating this.”

“Warm water…” I pondered this, trying to come up with a solution. “I’ll see what I can do, Cas. In the meantime, maybe you could go get Dean to help you.”

“Dean is still asleep,” Castiel told me. “I informed him that I was going to wash my wings to seek relief and let him keep resting. He…” A faint, pleased blush rose to Castiel’s cheeks. “I offered to clean up all the feathers I left in the room, but…he said he enjoys having a part of me with him even when I’m not around, so I left them.”

It took everything in me not to coo in response to that. Instead, I joked, “He always says you’re the one who’s a sap, but he’s just as big of a cheeseball!”

“I’m assuming ‘cheeseball’ could be supplanted as a synonym for ‘sap?’”

“Yep!” Packing up my papers and books, I hopped off my bed and headed towards the door. “I’ll see what I can do about finding some warm water for you, and in the meantime…” I glanced at the numerous fallen feathers that had been introduced to my room. “…You can take these and add them to your nest since Dean likes them so much. I have some in the pockets of my shorts from last night, feel free to take those too.”

Hoping the angel would follow my advice, I left the room and headed downstairs. Where to find warm water…? There weren’t any bathtubs in the Villa, only showers. And even if I could run hot water in the sink, I’d have nowhere to put it and would feel awful about the water bill, especially with Maria causing so many issues with basic utilities already…

My aimless wandering carried me into the kitchen, where I found Silvan tidying up some stuff in the pantry. If anyone would know a good place to get warm water, it would have to be him.

“Hey, Silvan?” I greeted, peeking into the pantry closet.

“Good morning, [Y/N]!” he greeted, chipper as ever as he replaced a jar of flour on the shelf. “You need something?”

“This might sound kind of random, but…” I gathered myself, pressing on despite the odd topic. “Would you know anywhere on the island with hot water? Like, a hot tub maybe?”

Perplexed by the question, Silvan answered, “…Most pools on the island aren’t working without electricity, so I don’t know of any working hot tubs…” He snapped his fingers and lit up. “Oh! But there are some hot springs in Wotten Waven.”

“In water-what?”

Chuckling good-naturedly, Silvan repeated, “Wotten Waven. Funny name, I know. It’s a rainforest village with natural mineral spring water, very good for you.”

That would be perfect. “Is there any chance we could go there today?”

Shrugging, Silvan decided, “Sure. I was going to plan on going to the beach today, but we can do that tomorrow instead. Why do you want to go to hot springs?”

Though I was put on the spot, I came up with an answer that was technically true. “Cas has been, uh…itching to soak in some hot water.”

“You should let him know he’ll have to itch no longer, then.” Grinning and closing the pantry, Silvan left the kitchen to prepare for the change of plans.

Privately enjoying the humor of his unwittingly accurate response, I went out onto the pool deck to pass the time by admiring the garden. Sam came running through the yard at some point, Eve and Jack close on his heels. At first, I got extremely worried that they had turned on him, but their wagging tails and Sam’s playful taunts put me at ease. How someone could manage to tame those ferocious dogs enough to play chase of all things was beyond me.

Right as they’d caught up to Sam and starting peppering his face with affectionate licks, Eve and Jack stood at attention. Without another thought, they turned and ran around to the front yard, barking and snarling at something.

Gravel crunched as a car descended the driveway, followed by booming, muffled music that drew nearer and nearer. I already figured out who was arriving before they walked through the front door, unfazed by the guard dogs’ threats.

“Guess who’s back?” A familiar voice sang to the tune of Eminem's _Without Me_. “Back again…Danny’s back…where’s my friend?”

It wasn’t even a question that he was asking about Silvan. Danny strolled into the house, peering around until his eyes landed on me.

“[Y/N], right?” He checked to make sure he got my name right.

I nodded, and he asked, “You seen Silvan?”

“He was just here,” I honestly answered. “I think he might be downstairs getting ready to go to the hot springs.”

“Hot springs?” Danny huffed incredulously. “That nutter is going to the hot springs and he didn’t think to invite me?” He shook his head, but grinned. “Honestly…”

Footsteps hurriedly climbed up from the basement, followed by Silvan rushing upstairs.

“I heard someone was-” The caretaker stopped in his tracks when he saw who had arrived. “Oh, Danny…”

Grinning from ear to ear, Danny pulled Silvan into one of his long hugs before he could protest. Just as before, they held each other for a little too long before pulling away.

“I’ve got a break,” Danny explained before Silvan could question his presence. “So I’m here.”

Sighing but smiling all the same, Silvan accepted this. He probably knew he couldn’t do anything to get Danny to leave, and a part of him surely wanted Danny to stay anyways…

“I heard you were going to the hot springs,” Danny told him. “Thought I’d tag along.”

“My jeep only has five seats,” Silvan pointed out apologetically.

“I could just follow you in my car.”

Unable to deny that solution, Silvan allowed, “Alright. But you have to turn down your music while you’re driving.”

“Fine,” Danny agreed to the terms without a fight. “I’ll wait outside for whenever you and your guests are ready!”

The laidback river guide strolled back out the front door then. Eve and Jack vehemently objected to his presence with throaty snarls and woofs, but that did nothing to stop him from getting back in his car to wait on us.

“Guess we have an extra person with us today,” Silvan stated, shaking his head. “But it will be nice to have him along.”

I raised an eyebrow at him, which he either missed or ignored. Perhaps more matchmaking opportunities would present themselves today…

Dean emerged from his bedroom shortly after that, and Sam returned from the yard. Silvan filled them in on what we were doing today and alerted them that Danny would be joining us, which they seemed completely fine with. After they’d left to put on swimwear in preparation for the hot springs, I decided to check on our resident angel and tell him the good news.

One knock on the master bedroom’s door let me in. Castiel seemed eager to show me what he’d done with the room since I’d last seen it, and as I examined his additions, I saw why.

The changes were simple but meaningful. Black feathers that glinted blue in any light were spread around the room, some on the floor, others nestled among the treasures on the shelves. But by far the most feathers were located on the bed, spread thoughtfully over and among the layers of blankets. All of the down feathers had been added here since they were softest, and though to the untrained eye they may look as though they’d been carelessly tossed about, I knew Castiel had taken the time to place each and every one of them to the best effect.

“Dean will lose his mind over this!” I gushed. “You have to let me see his face when you finally show him.”

“I will when it is complete,” Castiel promised. “You have helped and supported me a great deal throughout this.”

“Also, good news,” I changed the topic. “Silvan is taking us to some hot springs.”

Lighting up, Castiel’s wings twitched slightly. “That should help me immensely…if Dean were to comb out the loose feathers while we’re there, it might even speed up the process exponentially.”

“He’ll be happy to, I’m sure,” I assured. “You ought to put on your bathing suit, we’re leaving anytime now!”

Deciding I should follow my own advice, I went back to my room and changed. Everyone was waiting for me downstairs clad in swimming trunks and t-shirts. We were all eager to pile into the jeep and get on the road. Danny was close behind us in his own car; I couldn’t recognize the model, it was some Japanese vehicle, but I bet Dean would have known.

Aside from the typical rollercoaster mountain roads I’d learned to expect, we made a stop in at a roti stand in Portsmouth along the way for breakfast. We only stayed for a few minutes to pick up the food and ate it along the way since we had a bit of a drive ahead of us, but the rotis were delicious; they were a Jamaican street food that was essentially a burrito stuffed with pot pie filling instead of the typical ingredients. It made for a messy eating, especially while we were driving, but we had enough napkins to manage.

Then it was back to good ol’ bumpy Dominican roads rife with road edge failures. I did the only thing I could for the rest of the drive: held on tight and enjoyed the ride.

The farther inland we went, the lusher the forest became. I admired the views of the tropical foliage clinging to the mountainsides as we repeatedly ascended and descended the hills. A wide river full of massive stones and rubble came into view ahead, as did a few simple Caribbean buildings along the road.

“This is Wotten Waven,” Silvan told us as we began climbing an especially steep portion of road. “This village is known for its hot springs.”

“It looks like it fared pretty well against Maria,” Sam noticed, watching the buildings that went past.

I had to agree with him. Unlike most every other place we’d been, there were hardly any tarps or tents in sight. Aside from being a little off-kilter in some places, the mountainous, lush village looked nearly untouched.

“The mountains sheltered it from the storm,” Silvan explained. “But it got hit pretty bad by the mudslides that followed.”

My gaze automatically drifted up the side of the nearest mountain, and sure enough, I saw the telltale dirty slopes left by a mudslide between tracts of forest. Any buildings that had been on or around the slopes would have been swept away without a trace…maybe that was where the rubble in the river came from?

Pushing down that thought, I stared resolutely at the road ahead. Not one of the villages on this island could catch a break, could they?

Our two-car caravan pulled up to an establishment sheltered by large ferns and hibiscus bushes. Several small pavilions were built above what I assumed to be hot springs on a rocky cliff. I waited for everyone to hop out of the car so I could wiggle free from the middle of the backseat. Aside from me, Castiel was the last one left; I realized why when I saw the puddle of feathers that had accumulated in his seat.

The angel scrambled to stuff the fallen feathers under the seat in front of him. Even when his wings were incorporeal, their feathers still fell out and turned physical…I really hoped the hot springs would help, because this would be borderline unmanageable if it kept up.

The proprietor of the hot springs came out to greet us as we climbed the hilly terrain. He led us around the various concrete pools installed in the cliffside, each one sheltered by wooden structures and a cloth roof. Some of the pools were already occupied by locals who jubilantly splashed about.

“Do you have a preference for which pool you want?” the proprietor asked our group.

Before anyone else could pipe up, Castiel did. “Which of these pools has the highest temperature?”

“That would be…this pool,” the proprietor patiently pointed to a tub on the far end of the property.

Once he’d established that, Castiel automatically went ahead towards that pool, his wings twitching something awful. Practically tearing off his t-shirt, the angel immediately descended the steps into the humble tub, turning his wings corporeal with a flash of grace. The instant his feathers touched the steaming surface of the water, he groaned in relief and let his vessel sink all the way underwater.

Silvan eyed the sunken angel with worry, ignoring Danny laughing beside him. “Is he…what is-”

“Classic Cas,” Dean chuckled. “He’s fine, that’s just how he is.”

Castiel resurfaced with an abrupt splash that sent water spilling over the sides of the pool. His wings shook like a wet dog, sending droplets every which way. Utterly relaxed, he let his wings dip back under the water and drifted freely on his back.

I’d heard of birdbaths before, but…wow. Angelbaths were a sight to behold.

Once the sloshing water had settled, the rest of us shed our cover-ups and sank into the hot spring. Fresh, hot spring water flowed into the tub from two pipes at one end and filtered out another on the opposite end. The water was clear with an orange mineral tint that coated the concrete surface of the pool. It was the perfect temperature; I felt like I could melt right into the water when I first stepped into it.

Two concrete benches were built into the pool’s walls for sitting. After doggy paddling around the perimeter a few times to enjoy being in the water again, I perched myself on the bench farthest from the entrance right beside Dean. Sam, Danny, and Silvan took the other bench while Castiel floated in the center in a peaceful trance. Some of his feathers were coming loose in the water, but they sank to the bottom unnoticed.

I probably could have fallen asleep inside that spring. I was glad that I didn’t, though, because there were interesting happenings all around me.

Across the pool, the rising steam was fogging up Danny’s glasses. He either didn’t notice or didn’t care, because he kept them on. Silvan seemed troubled by this, his eyes darting towards the obscured, useless glasses in annoyance. Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore and reached to pull them off Danny’s face, cleaning their lenses with a towel at the pool’s edge.

Though at first surprised, Danny smiled warmly and sank deeper into the tub. “I’m going to need those back, you know. I can hardly see without them.”

“It already bugs me enough that you never clean them,” Silvan absently replied, intently rubbing at the glasses. “But they’re no use to you at all if you let the steam get to them.”

“Good thing you’re around to look out for me, then,” Danny quipped, letting his head fall sideways further into the water.

Silvan tensed up suddenly. I wasn’t entirely sure why at first, but just a closer glance revealed that Danny had slipped over so that he was barely resting his head against Silvan’s shoulder. Subtly glancing at his friend, Silvan gathered himself and refocused on wiping the glasses.

I was simultaneously hit with flashbacks of the bus ride in Alaska and the hot tub on the Noordam. Dear lord, this really _was_ a matchmaking opportunity…

Speaking of pairs of friends being cute, Castiel finally seemed to have broken out of his trance and had joined Dean on his bench. Dean happily scooted over to accept him, looking over the angel’s wings in satisfaction.

“This helpin’ you?” Dean asked, though it looked like he already knew the answer.

“Very much,” Castiel sighed out.

Dean held up a hand out of the water, flexing his fingers through the air. “Would it help even more if I…?”

Nodding and extending his wings out in the water in front of Dean, Castiel laid back against the wall and awaited his well-deserved scritches. Dean was more than willing to provide, combing his nails through the drenched feathers and easily tugging out the loose ones along the way. This went on for several quiet minutes before Dean moved on to the other wing, being sure to keep everything underwater so those who couldn’t perceive Castiel’s true form wouldn’t see how odd it looked.

He’d barely started working through the second set of plumage when Danny asked across the pool, “What are these feathers?”

Everyone on my side of the pool froze up. Several of Castiel’s feathers hadn’t sunk to the bottom, instead floating across the top of the water in dips of surface tension.

Squinting at one of the feathers, Danny plucked it from the water’s surface and held it right up to his face. “I’d say this is a Satin Bowerbird’s, but it’s pretty large for that…why does that bird keep coming up lately?”

“They’re mine,” Castiel impulsively answered. “Um…I collect bird feathers, and I forgot that I was storing my Satin Bowerbird feathers in the pockets of my swimming trunks.”

Now that he knew they were from Castiel, Sam picked up one of the feathers for himself. “So that’s what they look like…” he quietly murmured, fascinated as he held the feather up to the light to watch it shimmer.

“No way,” Danny refuted, but he laughed and turned the feather over several times. “Where did you find a bowerbird this big?”

“In my worldly travels,” Castiel tersely replied. “You…would be surprised by the size some of them can reach.”

Scrutinizing the feather some more, Danny chuckled and tossed it back into the water. “I guess so. I haven’t actually seen any in person.”

All those in on the truth internally sighed in relief. I had no clue how to explain the spontaneous appearance of big, shiny feathers in the pool otherwise.

“I will never understand your obsession with birds,” Silvan commented, _still_ cleaning Danny’s glasses like the perfectionist he was.

“And I’ll never understand your obsession with work,” Danny fired back, leaning further against his friend’s shoulder.

Something withered in Silvan’s expression after Danny said that. When I remembered why it was that Silvan worked as hard as he did, I realized why.

Making a dreary note of that for later, I allowed my worries to melt away in the steamy, comforting water surrounding me. Dean resumed assisting Castiel with his molt, now being more careful to swipe up any loosened feathers and keep them out of sight.

The proprietor came to check on us after a while, toting a few jars that he offered to us for sale.

“These are samples of the mud from the springs,” he explained. “It is very healthy for skin and hair, full of good minerals.”

Glancing between the jars and Castiel’s wings, Dean announced, “I’ll take a jar.”

Swimming across the pool to take some EC out of his travel bag, Dean exchanged the cash for the jar. The proprietor took off then, leaving in his wake a curious angel, a scheming Dean, and a very confused Sam.

“You bought a jar of organic mud?” Sam asked teasingly. “ _You_?”

Frowning, Dean gestured to Castiel and mouthed the word “wings” emphatically at his brother.

Huh. If the mud was healthy for skin and hair, surely it was good for angel feathers, too.

Though Sam nodded in understanding, a whole new kind of teasing look spread over his face. Dean pointedly ignored him as he unscrewed the lid of his jar and smelled its orange contents. Though his face scrunched up, he dug his fingers into it, coating them in a thick layer of mud and offering it out to Castiel.

The angel caught on and pulled his wing nearer to the water’s surface. Eager to get the gunk off his skin, Dean spread the mud over Castiel’s feathers, coating them in thick orange sediment. He worked until the entire wing was covered, then moved on to the other and repeated the process.

By the end of it, Castiel’s wings looked like they’d been dressed up for Halloween. Patches of underlying black shone through the coat of orange paint that covered his feathers. He sat peacefully, allowing the mud to soak in and work its magic.

Several minutes of mud-soaking later, Dean deemed it had done its job. Pulling Castiel’s wings back towards him, he set to cleaning the mud off, preening each individual feather with care until every trace of the minerals had been washed away. An awful lot of feathers came loose this time, and once Dean retreated to see the fruits of his labor, Castiel’s wings looked almost completely back to normal.

Examining his wings and pleased with the results, Castiel praised, “Wonderful, Dean. Thank you.”

To show his gratitude, Castiel scooted across the bench and leaned himself against Dean, wrapping one of his improved wings around the hunter. Though flustered from there being so many other people around to witness their closeness, Dean managed to untense and let the soaking wet feathers hold onto him like a warm, watery blanket.

This more than made up for the wing cuddle fumble in the hot tub nearly a year ago, at least in my book.

We must have stayed in that hot spring for two hours. Time melted into nothing under the circulating heat of the water. There’s no telling how long we would have stayed if the proprietor hadn’t come to check on us again.

“Just making sure you aren’t losing track of time,” he told us. “People tend to forget all about their schedules when they come here.”

Once he’d left, Silvan announced, “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but…I do have some errands I need to take of in Roseau.”

Sighing as though he’d been expecting this, Danny turned to stare up at Silvan from where he was still resting against his shoulder. “Always with the errands. What do you even need to do?”

“The Villa needs more soap and toilet paper,” Silvan patiently replied.

“Toilet paper?” Dean piped up. “Yeah, that’s an emergency.”

Staring into space for a few moments, Danny offered, “I try to avoid errands like the plague. What if I just went back to the Villa? I could let myself in and wait for you there.”

Silvan fixed Danny with an unamused stare. “You do that, and Eve and Jack will probably break out of their electric fence and tear you to shreds.”

“Will you at least finally give me my glasses back so I can follow you, then?”

Holy crap, Silvan was freaking _still_ cleaning those glasses after all this time. When he finally did pass the now-pristine lenses back to Danny, I figured out why: the second those glasses were back on Danny’s face, he pulled away from Silvan and sat up. Had Silvan been purposefully taking an eternity cleaning those glasses so Danny would stay there?

Of course that’s why he’d done it. No matter how much of a perfectionist he was, there wasn’t any other excuse for fixating on cleaning something for that long.

Since those errands did need attending to, we begrudgingly followed Silvan out of the pool. Castiel tried to linger for as long as he could, swishing his wings around in the water to stir up currents before turning them incorporeal to dry them and climbing out.

All we’d packed this time were several towels, which were passed around between us to dry off as well as we could. Donning our coverups, we found and paid the proprietor for our time and returned to the cars. Silvan insisted that everyone set their towel down on the seat beneath them before climbing in, whereas Danny just hopped into his front seat while he was still soaking wet.

We only made it about a mile through Wotten Waven before Danny’s car unexpectedly pulled over to the side of the road. Silvan pulled over to join him and see what was up.

“There’s a food place up here,” was the only explanation Danny offered. “I’m hungry. If we’re driving all the way to Roseau, I want to eat.”

The rest of us turned out to be hungry as well; we really had been in those hot springs for quite a while. Danny led us up a sideroad on foot to a quaint village eatery with a small menu. I ordered a cheese-filled bake, Sam ordered some kind of coleslaw salad, and Dean ordered a classic burger with fries. Danny outright ordered a double chocolate brownie, and I had to respect his willingness to use his adult privileges to eat dessert for a late lunch.

We exited the restaurant with our food in Styrofoam containers, Dean munching on his fries and passing a few to Castiel as we walked. We’d barely made it halfway back to the car when something woofed behind us.

Sam was the first one to turn around and investigate. Sitting on the road behind us was a juvenile stray dog with floppy little ears and a golden coat stained by dirt. Its wide, begging eyes were trained on us as it hopped to its feet, trotting towards us and smelling the scents of our meals in the air.

My heart hurt just looking at its feeble frame, and more than anything I wanted to tear off some of my bake and offer it to the puppy. Sam ended up beating me to the punch.

“Dean, give me a fry,” Sam absently requested, holding a hand towards his brother and keeping his gaze trained on the dog.

Raising an eyebrow, Dean relinquished one of the fries from his container to his brother. 

Holding out the fry, Sam hunkered down close to the ground, tossing the potato slice towards the dog. The dog’s ears and tail perked up as it stepped forward to sniff the fry, hesitantly nipping at it and eventually taking the whole thing between its teeth.

A little smile cracked into place on Sam’s face, and he held out his hand to his brother. “Give me another.”

Though he huffed and rolled his eyes, Dean passed another fry to him. Sam tossed this one on the ground practically right in front of him. The dog hesitated even more this time, but after weighing its options crept forward and snatched this fry as well.

Sam held his hand towards Dean again, not even bothering to ask this time.

“Dude, you’re bleedin’ me dry over here,” Dean complained, holding his food out of reach.

“You’ve been giving Cas fries since you got that box,” Sam pointed out.

“He’s my boyfriend, and you already have food.”

“This dog doesn’t!”

Finally looking back to see what was going on, Dean stared at the dog. Both the canine and Sam stared back at him with puppy dog eyes and Dean caved, grabbing a handful of fries and shoving them into his brother’s outstretched hand.

Grinning appreciatively, Sam turned back to the dog. Its tail was wagging and its eyes were locked on the bundle of fried deliciousness.

Taking a chance, Sam took one of the fries in his free hand and held it out to the pupper. It hesitated more than ever, but finally gently grabbed the fry right from Sam’s grasp and chewed it up.

Encouraged by the progress, Sam reached out to let the dog sniff at his hand. It shrank away from him in learned fear, but Sam held out another fry for reassurance. Trying one more time, Sam reached up to pet the dog on its head. Its ears drew back and it again shrank away somewhat, but it let Sam touch it as it gnawed on its latest treat.

Gently scratching behind the pooch’s ears, Sam offered another fry, then another. By that point much of the group had left him behind on the street, but the dog was happily accepting his pets. Torn, Sam gave the puppy one final rub behind the ear and left the rest of the fries for it.

I walked alongside Sam back to the jeep. I’d really been hoping we could stick around for a bit longer so Sam could befriend the frail little creature; he’d been on a dog-whispering roll this entire trip.

A friendly little bark sounded behind us again when we reached the car. The pooch had dutifully followed Sam once it scarfed down the rest of the fries, and now it was wagging its tail and staring up at him.

“I don’t have any more,” Sam apologized, but he reached down to pet the dog anyways.

The stray uttered a single “yap!” and leaped up to greet Sam, licking his hand.

Beaming, Sam hunched down to the dog’s level once more. “Aren’t you a sweet little guy? I told you, I don’t have any fries left.”

Despite the lack of fatty treats, the dog stayed, licking at Sam’s hands and trying to do the same to his face. All traces of shyness had evaporated from its tiny being.

“You gonna name him?” I asked, some tiny part of me hoping we could take him home, as unlikely as that seemed.

“Sam, if you name it, you’re just gonna get attached,” Dean objected, rounding the car once he realized the dog situation hadn’t reached its end.

“I think _it’s_ already attached to _him_ ,” Danny commented, brownie crumbs falling down his chin as he spoke.

Sam genuinely gave it some thought. “We could call him Wotten Waven- no, too hard to remember. Wotten? Wattson? Wattson!”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Dean muttered, “Oh boy, here we go.”

“Do you like that name?” Sam cooed at the puppy. “What’s your name? Wattson? Are you Wattson? Yes you are!”

Wattson rolled over on his side to expose his belly, much to Sam’s delight. He immediately set to administering _all_ the belly rubs.

“We’re not bringing a stray back with us,” Dean defiantly tried to shut it down. “The Villa isn’t even ours, we can’t keep a pet there!”

“Actually, pets have stayed at the Villa before,” Silvan countered. “As long as they’re kept away from Eve and Jack, because they don’t like other animals in their territory.”

“You’d stay out of their territory, wouldn’t you?” Sam continued to speak to his dog friend in baby-speak. “You would, wouldn’t you, Watts? Wouldn’t you? You _would_.”

Fumbling for another reason not to take the dog back, Dean pointed out, “It’s probably got…fleas or parasites all over it. That’s just a health hazard.”

Castiel stepped forward then, leaning down next to Sam and placing a finger against Wattson’s forehead. A tiny swoosh of celestial energy filled the air and Castiel retreated.

“I have removed any and all parasites from him,” Castiel announced.

“Thanks, Cas,” Sam said, appreciation twinkling in his eyes. “He’s such a good dog for a stray, we have to take him. He’s barely surviving out here.”

Crossing his arms, Dean summoned up his best authoritative big brother voice. “Sam.”

Glancing up at Dean with pleading eyes, Sam pulled out possibly the most heartstring-tugging puppy dog face I’d ever seen on him. “Dean…”

I could picture with a crystal clarity a toddler-aged Sam pulling the same trick on his older brother when they were just kids. Some things never change…

Resolve slowly cracking, Dean let his arms fall to his sides. Though he didn’t say a word, it was clear Sam had won.

Beaming, Sam picked up his new companion and held him close, slipping into the jeep’s shotgun. Everyone other than Dean seemed to find this development absolutely adorable, smiling as they returned to the cars.

Dean stared me down before I could even think about getting in the jeep.

“You just had to bring up the name game,” he sighed in frustration.

“What?” I defended. “They were a perfect match!”

“Years,” Dean deadpanned. “I’ve spent years making sure he doesn’t get his heart set on some dog so he doesn’t then get his heart broken when he realizes we can’t keep it.”

“This is different! You guys have a stable home base now, and Cas can come check on Wattson whenever you’re out on a case.”

Dean couldn’t argue with that, but he still didn’t look pleased about it. “Whatever. This goes south,” he pointed a finger at me, “you’re taking responsibility.”

“Wholly,” I agreed, taking my chance to slip in the backseat.

On the way to Roseau, Sam showered his new pup with attention. Wattson was incredibly responsive to him, and I had to wonder if no one had ever truly shown the puppy as much care as Sam had. He didn’t even seem especially concerned about being in a car or all the strange people within it; all of his focus and gratitude was directed at his big moosey savoir, who was currently holding him in his lap and balancing his salad at the same time.

For once, I had something other than the scenery to focus on during the drive. Wattson wasn’t keen to accept attention from anyone other than Sam yet, but that didn’t stop me from at least letting him sniff my hand to get more familiar with me. Just watching Sam fawn over his new dog was more than enough entertainment to pass the time. Dean even caved under the force of everyone else’s peer pressure to donate more of his fries to Wattson’s eager maw.

We hit Roseau at about peak traffic, but by some miracle our cars didn’t get separated. The only parking available was by the seawall again, so we took two of the only remaining spots and hopped out of our cars; everyone except Sam. He insisted that he wanted to keep an eye on Wattson and stayed in the car with him, rolling down the windows for fresh air.

Danny convinced Silvan to let him tag along on his errands, and Castiel reported that he was going to explore the shoreline and stretch out his wings since they were nearly done molting. That left me and Dean to figure out how to pass the time, and it turned out that we both had the same idea.

“Internet café?” Dean asked without bothering look my way.

“Internet café,” I repeated affirmatively.

The French café was at the end of a relatively short walk through some alleys. The two of us set up in a quiet corner of the shop when we arrived, each of us connecting our phones to the wi-fi and catching up on our technology fix. We may have looked a little odd in our bathing suits and coverups, but it was a normal enough look for the island that no one paid us any particular mind. I browsed my usual sites to see what all I’d missed, and as I scrolled through my open tabs, I realized I still had the Shapeshifter Mystery Masterpost open.

Knowing fully well that more bad news likely awaited me, I refreshed the page. Just as I’d expected, there was an “ **UPDATE #3** ” at the bottom of the post. This time there was another video prefaced by more text, and this looked like a much longer update than the last one.

_As a lot of you have probably heard, a big breakthrough just occurred with this mystery! Except, it hasn’t cleared up much of anything, only made it even more convoluted._

_Investigators have now confirmed that the suspects followed a travel path in from Alaska. They lost their trail again in Denali national park, and the trail might’ve run cold there if someone hadn’t come forward and given them a TON of information. Although…to be frank, the information is questionable at best._

_There’s really no way to describe this, so I’m just gonna show you instead. This is another interview conducted by that local station. It is…probably one of weirdest interviews I’ve ever seen on TV. Take everything said here with a grain of salt._

I clicked the play button on the video and waited anxiously for it to buffer. Across from me, Dean was scrolling through something on his phone, oblivious to what I’d just found.

“Man, news stories in your world are just as depressing as ours,” Dean commented, doing a double-take at his phone screen. “Wait, _who’s_ your president?”

The video loaded then, showing the same woman in the newsroom as before. Dean looked up from his own phone to listen in.

The woman clacked her stack of papers against the desk in front of her. “Just when you think you’ve found the clue to solve an unsolvable mystery, it turns out to only get deeper. That’s what Atlanta investigators tracking the case of three lookalikes and an unknown teenage girl are currently experiencing.”

_Actually, I’m technically an adult,_ I thought defiantly, but I stayed focused on the video.

The security footage from the rental store rehashed. “Some of you might recall the story we reported on a few weeks ago about the case of the Supernatural doppelgangers. A simple missing rental car ended up leaving a trail that ended in directly conflicting evidence as to who was responsible, implicating three actors from a cult television show who had proof of their innocence. An allegedly missing girl only complicated matters.”

That picture the rental guy had taken faded into view. “Investigators have been torn between near irrefutable evidence that the three suspects are innocent and trying to figure out how they could’ve been in two places at once. Theories have ranged from plastic surgery to shapeshifters to an improbable coincidence of the universe, and an active fanbase of Supernatural fans contributing their own ideas has only added to the chaos of the investigation.”

The video returned to showing the reporter behind her desk. “Investigators have managed to track the suspects’ travel path into Alaska as far as Denali national park. They feared the trail might run cold there, but surprisingly, someone came forward and proved otherwise. This witness claimed to not only know who the suspects were, but also that she had encountered them more than once and come to consider them friends. Though her statements have come to be regarded as controversial in the scope of the investigation, we’ve been lucky enough to get an exclusive interview with this witness.”

The reporter faded out of view, replaced by another interview segment. A woman decked out in in jewelry and fine clothes was seated in an armchair inside what looked like an obscenely ornate home. When I saw her face, my heart dropped.

“Charlotte, no…” I whined in dismay.

“Charlotte?” Dean perked up, scooting around to my side of the table. “You don’t mean…” He sighed when saw who was on my screen. “Yup, you mean the vampire lady.”

The same interviewer from before was seated across from Charlotte, each of them with a little microphone clipped to their clothes. Charlotte was in the middle of fixing her curly, blonde hair, hurriedly adopting a casual pose as she realized the cameras were running. She put one leg atop the other, resting her palms on her knee and smiling brightly at the interviewer.

“Now, Mrs. Perkins,” the interviewer, a young woman in semi-professional dress, began. “You say you met the four suspects in this case?”

“I absolutely did,” Charlotte immediately replied in her airy, draining New Jersian voice. “They were on a family cruise together on the MS Noordam when I met them. I happened to be on a cruise with my own family: my husband Mark, my son BJ, and my…ex-foster daughter Chloe, who the foster agency took from me without warning to place in a ‘more fitting home,’ whatever that means-”

“You said the suspects were on a ‘family’ cruise?” the interviewer interrupted, trying to stay on track.

“Yes,” Charlotte replied matter-of-factly. “Two lovely husbands, their adorable little daughter, and her uncle.”

“You’re certain they were a family?” the interviewer chased clarification.

“I’m certain!” Charlotte declared, vaguely offended she was being doubted. “The way those two were acting, they had to have been married. At dinner, one of them told me this lovely little story about how they’d met in a barn with a pitchfork-”

“You told investigators their names,” the interviewer again tried to keep her focused. “That stirred up quite a frenzy, didn’t it? Tell me about that.”

“Oh yes, they were incredibly interested in what I had to say on that matter. The couple’s names were Denny and Calhoun, and their daughter was named [Butchered Version of Y/N]. As for the uncle…his name is the only one I can never entirely recall…I’m very good with names, you know.”

Both Dean and I snorted in disbelief.

“Sean!” Charlotte eventually came up with. “The uncle was named Sean, I’m sure of it.”

The interviewer carefully asked, “Are you…absolutely certain those were their names?”

“Without a doubt! Why does everyone need so much clarification on that?”

“You’re sure their names weren’t…Dean, Castiel, and Sam?”

Laughing haughtily, Charlotte denied, “Oh, no. I would remember if they were.”

“Okay…” the interviewer trailed off nervously. “It’s just that…those are the names of the characters the actors implicated in this play on their show.”

“Those three were hardly the acting type,” Charlotte dismissed. “Kind of fidgety, mysterious, rugged…they belonged to a grittier line of work.”

“How certain are you that these three aren’t the actors in question? They do look identical.”

“Looks hardly determine anything, darling,” Charlotte refuted, taking the chance to flash her sparkling diamond necklace and show off her smooth face. “I looked up pictures of the actors after the investigators told me about them, and my word! The sorts of ridiculous poses and faces they were making…! The three men I met wouldn’t be caught dead being that silly. I don’t know if they have secret identical twins or what, but I’m convinced they aren’t the same people.”

Ahhh J2M’s miscellaneous ridiculous photoshoots. I couldn’t decide if they were helping or hindering our case here, but it amused me to no end that they’d gotten involved at all.

“There’s perhaps the most controversial of your claims,” the interviewer commented. “When speaking to the investigators you reportedly insisted that the three people you met and the actors in question were completely different people.”

“I know it may sound a little out there,” Charlotte admitted. “But if there’s one thing I know, it’s people. I was later presented with those three actors in-person courtesy of the investigators, and that was what made me certain they were different. For one thing, they didn’t have a clue who I was; I tend to leave quite an impression on people, you know.”

_Yeah, you sure hecking do,_ I thought. Months later and I could still hear her voice ringing in my head.

“Have you considered the possibility,” the interviewer broached, “that because they are actors, they simply _acted_ differently on that cruise?”

“Heavens, no,” Charlotte immediately denied. “I thought about that, but even then, I wasn’t convinced they’re the same. Johnson and Milford both had wives and multiple children, and I’m certain Denny and Calhoun were married with just their one daughter. The sorts of subtleties they gave off aren’t the kind you can just act; they were a pair in love if I’ve ever seen one.”

Unable to help it, I nudged Dean with my elbow under the table. “See, you totally did do a good job pretending to be Cas’s husband.”

“Shut up, we weren’t even together back then,” Dean countered, but he was grinning at the memory.

Dropping that subject, the interviewer asked, “And what about their so-called daughter? What can you tell us about her? Investigators are very concerned that she may be a victim of kidnapping.”

“She most certainly isn’t!” Charlotte vehemently countered. “That precious little pumpkin was more than happy with her family on that cruise. She may have been shy, but she was never even remotely in distress.”

“Except when you were talking,” I muttered.

“You’re certain?” the interviewer prodded.

Smiling sweetly and leaning forwards, Charlotte cheerily challenged, “Who met her? You or the investigators, or me and my family?”

“Did the investigators ask your family any questions?” the interviewer changed gears again.

“They did. They bombarded poor Mark with a slew of questioning; didn’t realize the man was mute until I told them.” She laughed that rich white woman laugh that always grated on my eardrums. “And BJ just confirmed what I’d told them. My sweet little boy backed up my claims very nicely, said the husbands were ‘disgustingly lovey-dovey’ and kept having weird discussions about wings.”

“So that’s your final statement? That these four were a family unit, two of them were married, and the mystery girl is in fact their daughter?”

Nodding succinctly, Charlotte agreed, “That just about sums it up.”

Forcing a smile, the interviewer concluded, “Well, thank you for your time, Mrs. Perkins. I just…had to hear all this from the source to believe it.”

“Anytime, dear,” Charlotte dismissed. “Should you ever need anyone to interview again, you know where to find me!”

The camera faded from Charlotte chattering with one last laugh back to the reporter in the newsroom.

“Investigators have tried their best to take into account Charlotte’s and her family’s claims,” she reported. “Though there has been much scrutiny among them since this came to light, due to this case’s unusual nature, her circumstantial evidence is all they have to work with. Scouring the Noordam’s passenger manifesto has revealed several young, female passengers whose names begin with [First Letter of Y/N], but none named [Butchered Version of Y/N]. As many people have shown growing interest in this case, we’ll keep you updated on any further breakthroughs or significant developments.”

The video abruptly ended, leaving me and Dean staring at our own dumbfounded reflections.

“…This _is_ a bit of a mess,” Dean huffed, scooting his chair back to his own side of the table.

“Yeah…no kidding,” I agreed, in a bit of a daze. They were getting closer to figuring out who I was, and if that happened…

The masterpost continued well beyond that video, and I skimmed some of its paragraphs.

_Predictably, the fandom erupted when this came out. Crazy as it seems, this evidence certainly lends some credibility to the theory that these suspects were in fact our three monster-hunters, or at least people who look a lot like them and adopted their personas._

_Many people have fixated on this woman’s claims of “Denny” and “Calhoun” being together. To say that side of the interview sent Destiel fans into a frenzy is an understatement, and it’s given rise to a whole new host of theories incorporating the two of them. The little details about them meeting in a barn and discussing wings is compelling, provided this family isn’t making it all up; I’ll admit, even as skeptical as I am of this whole deal, I can’t deny I was excited at the prospect of this lending some serious credibility to my ship._

_Continue your speculations SPN fandom, but keep in mind that this is a very real investigation going on! Until the identity of this girl who may or may not be the lovechild of Dean and Castiel is confirmed, use care in how you include her in your theorizing. She still may be a missing person in real danger!_

For my own sanity, I turned off my phone and disconnected from the wi-fi. When did this become my life?

Shortly after that, Dean and I left the café behind and regrouped at the car. Castiel was already back in the vehicle, trying to earn Wattson’s favor while Sam encouraged his puppy to interact with the angel.

“You can speak to him, can’t you?” I asked Castiel, remembering how he’d communicated with animals in the past.

“Yes,” Castiel confirmed, letting Wattson sniff his fingers. “He is incredibly grateful to Sam for feeding him…I’m getting the impression that no one had ever shown him such continual generosity before.”

Beaming, Sam fervently rubbed Wattson’s back. “You are _most_ welcome, Watts.”

Smiling down at the dog and its wagging tail, Castiel added, “He can tell that you’re a very good person, Sam. And…he can also tell that you have a particular affinity for dogs. He trusts you very much.”

Somehow beaming even brighter, Sam let Wattson lick his face a few times, laughing under the dog’s ticklish tongue. Even Dean couldn’t hide the half-grin that appeared on his face at the sight. A dog companion was just what Sam needed.

It wasn’t long until Silvan and Danny returned from their errands, the latter having picked up a bag of some food. Once everyone had settled into their respective cars, we took off for the Villa with Silvan’s jeep in the lead. The road carried us along the coastline of the island, winding along mountains and through little villages the whole way.

Eve and Jack greeted us as they usually did: by barking maliciously. They calmed down once Silvan called to them, though they warily eyed the puppy Sam carried into the house.

Speaking of Wattson, Sam set the dog loose in the house as soon as the door was closed behind him. The puppy was cautious, sniffing and treading lightly throughout the open space under Sam’s watchful guidance.

Any of Wattson’s willingness to explore was shattered when Danny unceremoniously shed his t-shirt and cannonballed into the pool.

Everyone jumped in surprise at that, but none so much as the meek little dog. The poor thing ran towards Sam with its tail tucked beneath itself, seeking shelter behind his tall legs. Sam reached down to pat him reassuringly, but Wattson stayed behind the safety of Sam’s big boots while Danny splashed about in the pool.

Silvan simply crossed his arms and raised an unimpressed eyebrow at his friend.

Catching Silvan’s gaze, Danny shrugged and floated on his back through the water. “What? You have this pool and never use it, I thought I may as well.”

Shaking his head affectionately at his friend’s antics, Silvan conceded, “Fine, just don’t even think about skinny dipping.”

Danny’s only reply to that was a challenging raise of his eyebrows, which Silvan immediately shut down.

“I’m serious,” he enforced. “I am _not_ spending my evening sanitizing the pool.”

“Tell you what,” Danny pieced together. “I’ll keep my trunks on if you join me in here.”

Any resolve Silvan had in him was already cracking under that offer. “My swim trunks are finally just starting to dry out,” he weakly objected.

Reaching teasingly towards the rim of his own trunks, Danny gave Silvan a few drawn-out moments to reconsider.

“Fine,” Silvan decided. “I’ve been meaning to test the water’s temperature for a while anyways.” He glanced back at the rest of us. “Will you all be okay without dinner tonight?”

“I think that late lunch did it for us,” Sam replied, still comforting his startled puppy.

Left without anything holding him back, Silvan carefully removed and folded his t-shirt by the poolside and descended the steps into the water. Danny greeted him with a friendly splash, and though the caretaker stood there blinking the water out of his eyes for a few moments, a competitive grin snaked onto his face. Sending a retaliating splash towards his friend, Silvan swam deeper into the pool as a splash war unfolded.

Once I’d taken a few moments to appreciate the scene, I expectantly turned back to my companions. “So, are you all up for another round of D&D tonight?”

Everyone responded in the affirmative, so I used my pent-up excitement to race upstairs and retrieve all the stuff I’d been working on in my room that morning. Sam, Dean, and Castiel had all taken their places at the kitchen table when I arrived, Wattson curiously investigating the various foody smells the room had to offer and intermittently returning to Sam’s side.

I got myself organized while the players spread out their character sheets, ready to see what I had in store for them. Reviewing my various sheets and the campaign booklet one more time, I got myself back into the dungeonmaster mindset.

“When we last left off,” I started, feeling like the recap announcer for some cheesy TV show, “Crowley had just escaped, but not without revealing that a bodyguard had apparently been accompanying Bobby Singer. As your crazy quest turned upside down continues, you last decided to track down this bodyguard inside the cave. Shall you proceed?”

“Hold up,” Dean raised a finger. “Crowley had like, a ton of gold in his throne room, right?”

“Basically obscene amounts, yes.”

“…Marlow’s gonna grab some of that. For safekeeping.”

Snickering, I encouraged, “You may as well. No one else is using it.”

“As soon as Andus sees his brother doing that, he’s gonna take a lot too,” Sam decided. “Gotta pay off those college loans somehow.”

I turned to Castiel. “Cassius? You want in?”

He took a few moments to come up with an answer, and it didn’t disappoint. “I’ll take a little, just to spite Crowley.”

“Ooooh looks like we’re corrupting bird-boy’s morals, huh Andy?” Dean jested. “If he keeps hanging out with us, he’s gonna turn into a hardened criminal.”

“I’m neutral good,” Castiel defended. “Technically I don’t feel compelled to follow a set of rules on either side of lawfulness or criminality. I just…do what is good. Taking from a demon is justified.”

“…Right,” Dean weakly replied. “So we’ve got our loot, let’s get goin’.”

Nodding in acknowledgement, I returned to narrating. “You all leave behind the throne room with your varying amounts of gold and re-enter the room with the springs. The only path you can really take is the same one that brought you here, and from there…the only other new direction to take is down the second diverging path.”

“Guess that’s where we have to go,” Sam conceded. “We should uh, still tread lightly in case there are any other Goblins around…”

Dean sneered. “What? You afraid one’s gonna try to give you their number again?”

“Terrified,” Sam deadpanned. “You can only turn down so many Goblins before you feel pressured to go on a pity date with one, and Andus wants nothing to do with that.”

Dean just stared at his brother for a few moments, until a grin crept onto his face. “I would’ve played D&D with you a long time ago if I knew it brought out your a-game dry humor.”

“Just trying to stay in character,” Sam smoothly replied, but he too wore a grin.

“Since it’s the only other way to go, you all take the second path where the cave splits,” I continued. “Somehow, the stone pathway seems even darker down this way, but you still have your light-enchanted rock to guide you. You end up coming to the entrance of what seems to be a large, cavernous room. Every drop of water from the ceiling echoes, as do your footsteps. You can’t see all the way inside, but it doesn’t look like anyone’s there. Do you take a closer look before entering?”

“That sounds ominous,” Dean mumbled. “We’d better take a look. Sam? You’ve got elf night vision or something, right? You do it.”

“Half-elf night vision,” Sam corrected. “But it should be just as effective, so I’ll do it.”

“Roll perception for me,” I requested.

Sam took the twenty-sided die and sent it bouncing across the table. It landed on a seventeen.

“Yep, that half-elf night vision really does help,” I gauge. “You can see that the room is basically barren right now, although there are many overhangs and large indentations carved in the wall. Inside one of the indentations…you see a tiny figure slumped over, not moving at all.”

“In that case,” Sam contemplated, “I tell Marlow and Cassius the room is empty except for…a tiny person who may or may not be dead.”

“I’d go right over to investigate,” Castiel immediately replied. “My healing powers may very well be of use in this situation.”

I nodded, privately smirking to myself about what I had planned. “You proceed towards the possibly-dead person to investigate. You can see that she is pretty small, kind of like a petite version of a dwarf, and has pointed lil’ ears sticking out from a head of short, black hair. Your Aarakocra senses alert you that she is very much alive…in fact, her breathing pattern tells you she isn’t even unconscious.”

Castiel’s eyebrows rose slightly, and before he could interject so much as a comment, I continued.

“Before you can attempt to do anything, she nimbly leaps to her feet and levels an armed bow inches from your feathery throat. Despite the height difference, she doesn’t look the least bit intimidated by you.”

“We better step in,” Dean muttered to his brother.

“’Woah, we’re not here to hurt you!’” Sam cried out in-character. “’We’re trying to help!”

“She scoffs,” I replied, readying my best tough-girl voice. “’Try tellin’ that to the goblins that ganged up on me and threw me in here. They left a while ago for some reason, and I’m not waiting for them to come back and finish the job.”

“’We’re not Goblins,’” Castiel offered. “’We’re here looking for Bobby Singer.’”

“The second she hears that name, she softens a little. ‘Bobby…where did that son of a get off to…’ Her suspicious look returns and she asks, ‘How do you know Bobby?’”

“Take it easy fellas, I’ll handle this,” Dean said, taking hold of the fictional conversation’s reigns. “’We’re old friends of his. Er, me and Andy are. Don’t really know the story with Cassius. Point is, we were just delivering some supplies for him when he found his wagon worse for wear on the side of the road.’”

“She looks a little shocked,” I relayed. “’You’re the ones Bobby hired for the Winchester delivery?’”

The three players glanced uncertainly amongst themselves until Dean sheepishly confirmed, “Uh, yeah?”

“For a few moments, she’s still pretty perplexed, but eventually she lets her bow drop and laughs heartily. ‘Leave it to Bobby to hire a bird, a freakishly tall elf, and a rogue too confident for his own good to carry out the simplest task he could possibly assign.’ She straightens up a little and stows her bow and arrow on her back. ‘Sorry about that, kinda been on the defensive since our wagon got jumped. Name’s Jodeliah Millweed, but you can call me what Bobby does: Jody Mills.’”

“Called it!” Dean shouted, triumphantly pounding his fist on the table and dislodging a few of the scattered dice on its surface.

Grinning, I pressed on. “Jody pulls herself free of the indentation in the wall and stretches to pop her joints. Now that you can see her better, you notice she’s clearly a little torn up with goblin claw-marks piercing her protective clothing.”

Castiel immediately leaped into action, taking to the cleric role so naturally it almost sent my head spinning. “I would like to offer to heal her.”

“She holds up a hand and declines. ‘Nah, I’m fine. Seen much worse in my line of work.’”

Frowning, Castiel persisted. “I insist. I’m a healer, it’s what I do.”

“…Alright, she acquiesces,” I allowed. “Roll for healing.”

He did, landing a solid fifteen.

“You patch her up nicely,” I decided. “Other than a bit of lingering fatigue and shallow scratches, she’s fine.”

“Good.” Castiel smiled softly. “Just out of curiosity…what race is she? A…particularly small subspecies of elf?”

That got a good laugh out of me. “No, no. Since you asked and your characters would have knowledge of this anyways…she’s a gnome.”

Dean stared at me from across the table. “You made…Jody Mills…a gnome. The most badass woman we know, and you made her a _garden ornament_?”

“Hey, gnomes are kickbutt in D&D!” I countered. “She’ll whoop you into next Tuesday the same as her real self, don’t test her.”

Holding up his hands in surrender, Dean fell back into his chair and let the matter drop.

“Now then,” I got back on track. “You’ve found Bobby’s bodyguard, but Bobby is still MIA. What’re you gonna do?”

“Ask Jody what she knows, obviously,” Sam chimed in, ever the voice of reason.

I shrugged, miming fantasy-Jody’s actions. “’I don’t know where that coot went. All I know is the goblins dragged him off to a separate room.’ She starts worriedly fiddling with a belt around her waist. ‘He better not have gotten himself hurt…certainly not on my watch.’”

“Crowley said he’d been contracted to kidnap him,” Sam recalled. “Would Jody happen to know anything about that?”

“As a matter of fact,” I smirked, “she might. If you’d ask her…”

Taking the hint, Sam got back into character. “’We found Crowley, the Tiefling in charge of the goblins, and he told us that he’d been contracted by someone called the Black Star to capture Bobby. Does that mean anything to you?’”

“She thinks for a moment, then says, ‘Don’t recognize the name, but I might know why he was targeting Bobby. He had something pretty valuable on him when we got jumped…I’m guessing he’s already been taken to this Black Star guy, right?’”

“Far as we can tell,” Dean piped up. “And we are gonna kick that son of a bitch’s ass when we find him. No one takes Bobby.”

“’Then what are we doing just standing around here? We’ve got a dwarf in distress to rescue, and like I said, I’m not waiting for those goblins to wise up and come back!”

“Don’t worry about that,” Dean chuckled. “Andy took care of every last one of ‘em.”

Though the implications of Dean’s phrasing remained to be seen, Sam only graced him with the slightest of bitchfaces.

“There’s nothing much left for you to do here,” I observed. “Unless you wanna go snooping for clues…”

“I’ll go with snooping,” Dean announced. “That’s…basically a rogue’s whole thing, right?”

“Mkay, where do wanna snoop?”

“Crowley’s lair would be most likely to have clues…and more gold.”

Giving Dean a knowing look, I resumed the story. “Alright, Marlow leads the group back into Crowley’s lair for a look-see. Anyone else who wants to get in on the snooping and/or gold plundering should do so now.”

“…I may as well spite Crowley a little more,” Castiel decided.

“I second that,” Sam added. “College tuition calls for drastic measures.”

“And I gotta roll some…investigation check or something, right?” Dean asked.

“You’re getting the hang of the terminology, yes,” I beamed. “Roll the die.”

Dean rolled…a nine. Which, eh, wasn’t great, but I really needed him to find a hint about where to continue their search, so I went with it.

“You look around a bit in the middle of swiping up all the gold you can find, and by chance you notice a filing cabinet pushed into a shadowy corner by Crowley’s abandoned throne. Inside, it is stuffed to the brim and beyond with disgustingly meticulous folders and pieces of paper.”

“Probably too much to sort through…” Dean murmured to himself. “Uh, can I roll for something else?”

“Sure, roll for perception.”

The die landed on a seven, and I had to resist the urge to sigh.

“…You notice they’re in alphabetical order,” I supply. “And deduce that they’re probably made up of those ‘contracts’ Crowley mentioned…yeah, that’s about it.”

“…No way am I sorting through all of these,” Dean said in defiance. “Not while Bobby’s in trouble out there.”

“Luckily for you,” I perked up, “Jody joins you by the filing cabinet, and thanks to her proficiency in perception that I just now decided she has for the sake of the plot, she points out that one of the files is less dusty than the others, indicating it was more recently used.”

“Thank god for Jody Mills,” Dean said, huffing a chuckle.

“Jody pulls out the offending paper and reads over it. She seems a little surprised by what she finds and tells you, ‘Yup, this looks like the correspondence between Crowley and this Black Star guy. It says Bobby is to be exchanged in Winchester Village. The Black Star wants to…use the safety of asylum in the local Aerol’uck temple for the exchange location.’” I turned to Castiel. “Your character would immediately recognize that name: that’s the same exact sect he once belonged to.”

Taking in this revelation, Castiel nodded solemnly. “All the more reason for Cassius to press onwards in this quest.”

“So that means if we go this temple, we’ll be taking out two birds with one stone, right? Literally?” Dean joked, grinning and nudging Castiel with his elbow. The angel maintained an unamused expression, but eventually wasn’t able to resist any longer and returned Dean’s amused smile.

“That settles it then: we’re going to Winchester after all,” Sam concluded. “Hopefully our wagon is still waiting for us…”

“It is,” I assured him. “In fact, your grumpy ox is unusually happy to see you all upon your return. Jody is, of course, accompanying you on your journey, riding comfortably in the wagon’s main compartment and sharpening her arrowheads. And the rest of you are…?”

“Still driving,” Dean immediately said.

“Normally I’d be in shotgun, but…” Sam pondered. “I’d really like to see what else I can find out from Jody, so I’ll join her in the wagon.”

Eyes lighting up as an idea occurred to Dean, he leaned towards Cas. “That leaves the other front seat wide open for any little birds that wanna flutter in and keep me company.”

Slightly flustered but immensely pleased, Castiel replied, “Cassius will most definitely be sitting beside Marlow, then.”

Unable to help but smile at the cuteness leaking into our game, I tried to stay focused on keeping the storyline moving. “How about those questions for Jody, Sam?”

“I’d like to see if I can find out more about that ‘valuable something’ Bobby had on him.”

“You already get the sense that she’s being purposefully evasive about it…roll persuasion.”

Sam rolled a fifteen, which was a bit better than I’d prepared dialogue for.

“Alright…” I took a few moments to think of how to respond. “Though she’s still uneasy about sharing it, she divulges, ‘It’s a scroll of sorts. It has a lot of power that would be dangerous in the wrong hands, so Bobby kept it stored in that horde of books and old occult artifacts he’s so fond of.’”

“Just how dangerous are we talking?” Sam asked, and the genuine inflection of his voice convinced me to let a bit more info slide.

“It takes her another few seconds to decide, but she ends up telling you, ‘That scroll could lead someone to one of the most powerful stores of magic in existence. Bobby told me that with the resources and information stored there, anyone could, in theory, alter or control swaths of the world. I’m not much into magic, but it sounded like some bad ju-ju to me.’”

Understandably, Sam looked troubled by this revelation, but not for the reason I’d been expecting.

“I’ve never even heard Bobby mention a scroll like that,” Sam said. “Admittedly, I’ve been away at school for a while, but…” His expression hardened decisively. “How exactly do you know Bobby? Are you one of his old friends from way back, or…?”

“Roll persuasion, please!” I chimed.

Upon complying, Sam rolled a feeble 6.

“Jody doesn’t really want to answer you,” I told him. “All she says is, ‘He helped me out some years back and I’ve been trying to repay him ever since. He’s just a friend who happens to live nearby.’”

“And yet he trusted her with something top-secret and dangerous he wouldn’t even tell us about,” Sam pondered. “Innnnteresting.”

Well, at least _someone_ picked up on the insinuation I was trying to make about Jody and Bobby’s relationship. What can I say? I’m a shipper at heart.

“You saying that to Jody?” I checked.

“Oh, no,” Sam denied. “No, she’d kick my teeth in.”

Nodding in complete and utter agreement, I turned to my other tablemates. “How about you two? Any front seat shenanigans we should know about?”

Neither of them said anything for a few moments, but eventually Castiel mumbled, “Um, Cassius isn’t very good at idle conversation, so…”

“Marlow, on the other hand, is,” Dean proudly interjected. “He’s gonna flash his best winning smile at Cassius to put him at ease and ask, ‘So, what’s up with you and those…’” He frowned for a second. “Aerial…luck…guys?”

“Aerol’uck,” Castiel corrected, impressing me with his memory. “I was once a devout member of their order, but I discovered corruption within their ranks and vowed to make it right.”

“Are they like a cult, or something?” Dean asked, conveying Marlow’s delight at the potential scandal.

“Not at all,” Castiel denied, squinting in disapproval at the assumption. “Aerol’uck is a well-established religion in its sphere of influence. It’s based largely on Aarakocra teachings and is harmless. It’s just…” Castiel hesitated as some real, buried emotion flickered in his eyes. “My family began pursuing some misguided ideas, and when I attempted to resist, they…rather violently extricated me from their operations.”

Wincing to himself as the real-life similarities hit him, Dean offered, “That…sucks. Sorry that happened to you, man.” His character’s lighthearted tone returned shortly. “Family, huh? They’ll screw you over if you’re not careful.”

“Andus hears that,” Sam interrupted. “Why Marlow always forgets that his brother has elf hearing is beyond him.”

“In any case, it doesn’t matter anymore,” Castiel continued. “Aarakocras are rather…separate from earthly affairs. They aren’t bad, just misguided, and I intend to help them see the errors of their ways.”

Dean nodded in understanding, and in that single simple motion I saw not only Marlow but his real self. “Well, you’re hanging out with us now, so…” He grinned. “You’ll be just fine.”

“I hardly know you,” Castiel deadpanned. “We’re only on this quest together circumstantially. But thus far, you and your brother seem trustworthy.”

Blinking dumbly a few times, Dean mumbled, “The blunt type, huh? Okay, I can work with that.”

“Work with…what exactly?”

Dean immediately began snickering. “Cas, you are dangling way too much low-hanging fruit in front of me for me to not reach out and take it.”

“You did say humans are talented at innuendo,” Castiel reminded him. “I thought it might be fitting to Marlow’s character.”

“Can we _please_ keep this game rated PG-13?” I begged. “If you think I’m gonna DM a session with anything even bordering on suggestive you are dead wrong.”

“Fine,” Dean conceded, getting his snickers under control. “Marlow just says, ‘I mean work with you. Socially, or professionally, or…closely, if you’d prefer. My invitation into my personal space still stands.’”

“I’ve certainly kept that in mind,” Castiel coolly replied. “But, unfortunately, there are more pressing matters at hand.”

Eyes flitting to the side, Dean shifted slightly in his chair. A quiet screech echoed under the table as it scooched across the kitchen floor towards Castiel’s seat.

“There’s not any pressing matters right _now_ , ya know,” Dean pointed out. “We’ve still got a ways ‘til we reach Winchester, so…”

An automatic smile came to Castiel’s face, but he forced himself to revert back into his character. “You’re…right. I could use a shoulder to lean on, my healing powers need some time to recuperate.”

Trying to contain his adorable eagerness, Dean schooched his chair a few successive paces closer until it was right beside Castiel’s, presenting a shoulder for the angel to lay on. The angel met him halfway and pressed his head into the crook of Dean’s neck, turning it into his own personal pillow for the evening.

“This is about as close as we can get without traumatizing my poor lil’ brother,” Dean quipped, craning his neck somewhat to rest his own head atop Cas’s. “…For now, anyways. Come find me later when we have a bit of space to ourselves.”

“Andus fake-gags out the back of the wagon,” Sam announced. “And he makes sure _both_ of the lovebirds hear him.”

Neither of said lovebirds, in or out of character, cared even slightly.

“If you two are done flirting,” I stepped in, “let’s move ahead to the next step of your journey. The wagon ride eats up most of your daylight, and by the time you cross over the threshold of the hill overlooking Winchester, the moon is hanging high in the sky. Leaving behind the darkening forest, your ox pulls your wayward caravan down into the lantern-lit village, which is thrumming with evening activity.”

“Where’s the temple place?” Dean got right to business. “The sooner we find Bobby, the sooner everything will be right with the world again.”

“It’s most likely the tall building with swooping white architecture framing the back of the village,” I described. “It looks dark and empty aside from a few red banners fluttering in the breeze outside, and Cassius would be quick to inform you that it’s closed by this hour.”

Undeterred, Dean insisted, “Then we’ll sneak in, Broadsword style!”

“Cassius would also be quick to inform you how profoundly inadvisable that would be. Aarakocras, particularly those guarding a holy temple, are extremely territorial and dangerous. You’d probably be shredded to bits by talons and battered by wings before you could sneak into a single room.”

“…Fine,” Dean eventually grumbled. “We’ll just finish Bobby’s mission and wait until morning.”

“Do we…actually know where we’re supposed to be delivering this stuff?” Sam ventured.

“Jody knows,” I replied. “’Bobby said this cargo is destined for a place called the ‘Trailhome Tavern.’”

“Marlow immediately perks up at the mention of a tavern,” Dean said, a glint in his eye. “It’s been a while since he spent a night…uh…whatever the fantasy world version of ‘getting wasted’ is.”

“Pretty sure that’s just the same thing,” Sam pointed out.

Grinning and nodding decisively, Dean exclaimed, “Alright then, Marlow’s ready to get wasted!”

“Who’s getting wasted?” Silvan’s voice filtered in from the pool outside. “There’s no alcohol on the premises, it’s against policy.”

Somewhere nearby Danny muttered a succinct, “Lame,” followed by several splashes and a yelp from Silvan.

“No worries, Silvan, it’s just part of the game,” Dean yelled, adding more quietly to us, “Sounds like he’s a bit busy right now anyways.”

The splashes and occasional playful cries continued to echo into our playing space, but no one seemed to mind. Wattson, who up until then had been continuing his culinary expedition, shied away from the noise somewhat and planted himself firmly beside Sam until the ruckus lessened.

“Jody directs you towards the Trailhome Tavern, which is tucked away in the middle of a large, barren lot,” I described. “Like most of the buildings in Winchester, it’s made of dark wood and has glazed window panes glowing yellow from interior lights. There are several other wagons parked around the perimeter, and you can hear a lot of activity going on inside.”

“I’m just gonna go ahead and start planning,” Dean decided. “See what they have on tap…some mead or somethin’ else Lord-of-the-Ringsy.”

Sam rolled his eyes, but a grin flickered at the corner of his mouth. “Andus has already resigned himself to being the designated driver at this point.”

Dean turned dramatically to the literal angel on his shoulder. “How ‘bout Cassius, huh? Marlow could use a drinking buddy.”

Briefly meeting Dean’s eyes, Castiel hesitated. “Um…Cassius isn’t much for intoxication. The Aerol’uck teachings of his past strongly advise against consuming alcohol or drugs of any kind.”

Frowning, Dean whispered to me, “Can I try rolling for…what was it…persuasion?”

Unable to speak for fear of exploding with giggles, I just nodded and pushed the die across the table to him. When it rolled back in my direction, it landed on a fourteen.

“Those Aerol’uck teachings are still pretty ingrained,” I said. “But…using your patented Broadsword charm and the fact that Cassius is rather fond of you, you manage to convince him to at least try half a cup of something.”

“…I suppose Cassius would want to impress Marlow,” Castiel grumbled, burying his face a little further into his Dean-pillow. “Otherwise it would be out of character for him.”

“Awesome!” Dean rose one eyebrow at me. “Is Jody in?”

“She thinks about it…” I trailed off. “Then says, ‘aw, what the hell, may as well. Long as none of us end up hungover in the morning; we’ve still got a dwarf to track down.’”

“Before you crazy kids get too carried away,” Sam intervened, “shouldn’t we actually deliver the stuff?”

“Right,” Dean begrudgingly agreed. “Business first, fun later.”

Sitting up in my seat, I resumed formal narration. “With the end of your initial mission in sight and a night of fun to look forward to, you pull the wagon around back. It’s darker and dingier back here, but there is a door handily labelled ‘drop-off’ with a heavy wooden knocker.”

When no one made a move to take initiative, Sam volunteered, “Andus will do it. He climbs out the back of the wagon and–cautiously–lifts the knocker.”

“A few seconds pass, but you hear heavy footsteps approaching and the door cracks open. A hardened dwarf squints at you through the opening, and she takes noticeably close inventory of you, your companions, and the wagon.”

Momentarily fumbling, Sam sputtered, “Uh…Bobby Singer sent us.”

“Her eyes widen almost immediately. She opens the door further, and you can get a better look at her. She’s got long, oaken hair with a fashionable dwarven braid, and you get the impression that she’s been around the block more than a few times. There’s also an armed crossbow in one of her hands that she’d evidently been aiming at you through the door.”

“…Marlow meekly waves from the wagon,” Dean offered, shrugging.

“Go ahead and roll performance to see if that has any effect,” I requested.

Thanks largely to the stat boosts in Marlow’s charisma, Dean rolled a whopping nineteen.

“Surprisingly enough, it seems to make her lower her guard considerably,” I said. “That may have something to do with the fact that it’s nearly impossible for a stranger to look untrustworthy while being used as a giant bird pillow.”

Dean automatically started and flushed a little at that being brought up again, but Castiel just smiled and nosed closer to him.

“The dwarf opens the door fully and completely lowers her crossbow. She sighs to herself and says in a tired voice, ‘So you’re the fellas Bobby sent. Alright, bring it in. You all can stay the night too since you got here so late…’ She pauses for a second and decides to tell you, ‘Name’s Ellental Hardvale, by the way. If you know Bobby, he may have mentioned my name once or twice.”

“Ellen!” Dean exclaimed. Though his voice rode a wave of excitement, a wistfulness of painful implications I was all too aware of clouded his eyes. “Is Jo around too?”

I just nodded. “Ellen also says, ‘My daughter Joabelle is somewhere inside, she’ll show you all to your rooms whenever you’re ready.’ She sets right to work walking around the back of the wagon and pulling out a couple of the supply crates.”

“Best not keep her waiting,” Castiel murmured, slowly and unwillingly extricating himself from Dean’s side. “Cassius joins Ellen and grabs as many supplies as his talons and wings can hold.”

“Marlow’s right behind him!” Dean swiftly announced. “’Cause, uh…he wants to be helpful and impress him.”

“And stay as close to his bird-crush as possible,” Sam fake-whispered, smirking.

“I heard that!” Dean snapped, though there was no heat behind it.

Snorting quietly to himself, Sam continued, “Andus stands up to help unload stuff from the back too, not because he feels the need to overcompensate for the sake of impressing someone, but because he’s the only one with enough height to reach the crates stored on the uppermost shelves.”

Dean defiantly grabbed one of the dice and shook it vigorously in his hands. “I’m rolling for…what would it be, jumping ability?”

“Acrobatics,” I supplied, enjoying the show.

“That! I’m rolling for that to see if I can reach the highest crates too!”

With a final shake so violent it sent Wattson running for cover under Sam’s chair, Dean threw the die across the table and, with impeccable comedic timing, it landed squarely on a 3.

“…Well, you try to leap up and reach a supply crate,” I sighed. “You just kinda…hop a little and shake the wagon slightly.”

“I could always pick you up so you could reach,” Sam jokingly offered. “If that would make you feel more helpful.”

Dean didn’t dignify his brother with a response, instead grumbling to himself, “He’s the half-elf. He got all the tall genes, it’s not fair.”

Castiel hid a smile behind the palm of his hand, and he lightly shook with the telltale signs of hidden laughter.

“And now you’ve gone and embarrassed Marlow in front of Cassius,” Dean accused.

“You embarrassed yourself,” Sam countered, not even bothering to conceal his own laughter.

“If it makes Marlow feel any better,” Castiel interjected, “Cassius found it more endearing than anything else.”

Fighting the slightest tremble of a smile at that, Dean maintained, “Marlow’s still gonna carry as many boxes as possible anyways to make up for it.”

“You mean to overcompensate,” Sam corrected.

“Can you let a guy show off a little? Just until he can charm the featherbrain of the hour?” Dean gestured towards said featherbrain on his right.

“Actually,” Castiel proudly interrupted, “Cassius is already plenty charmed by Marlow. I thought that would have been obvious by now.”

“Well yeah, but…” Dean fidgeted in his seat. “It’s the principle of the thing, ya know?”

“Not to rush you guys or anything, but…” I took my chance to get things moving. “Ellen is starting to look a little restless. She still has a whole tavern to get back to.”

“Right, let’s just bring the supplies in,” Sam gushed, evidently just as eager to get things moving again.

Without waiting for anything else to delay the plot, I narrated, “With crates in hand, you three, Jody, and Ellen stride through the back door into the Trailhome Tavern. Ellen directs you down a cramped hallway into a storeroom where you can drop off your cargo among a multitude of other boxes.”

“What exactly is in these crates, anyways?” Sam thought to ask.

“Ellen says, ‘Mostly just some spare fancy alcohol and exotic spell ingredients Bobby had lyin’ around. A few books for Joabelle, too.’ She smiles fondly. ‘That girl loves a good adventure. I try to prepare her as best as I can with Bobby’s survival and lore books when he’s willing to send ‘em.’ She drops the last crate, dusts her hands off, and leads your group towards the thrumming center of the tavern. She leaves you to attend to manning the nearby bar.”

Dean rubbed his hands together. “Marlow is so ready.”

Shaking my head, I continued, “The main room of the tavern is full of people from all walks of life—humans, dwarves, halflings, gnomes, a few elves, and even a dragonborn. All are either clustered around the tables or booths spread throughout the room, and several lucky patrons have earned seats right at the bar, which serves as the mantel of the tavern. The air is jovial yet intimidating, and you get the sense that most of this crowd consists of tough customers.”

“Marlow isn’t the least bit intimidated,” Dean said. “He’s seen people and places like this too many times to count on his various rogue adventures.”

“Andus isn’t really fazed either,” Sam agreed. “Frankly, this is nothing compared to the wild parties he’s been dragged into attending back at school.”

A silent, anticipatory air fell over the table as everyone awaited the third player’s reaction. Wings shuffling around behind him, Castiel finally said, “Cassius…will be as confident as he can. This is far removed from most environments he’s familiar with.”

“Long as he sticks with us,” Dean quipped, “Cassius will be just fine.”

“Jody leads the way,” I described. “She has a certain air of authority about her, though she vaguely frowns at some of the rowdier, more delinquent groups as you pass them. It’s not a frown of disdain, but more of a disapproving motherly sort of stare. You all know Jody, you know the one I’m talking about.”

All three players nodded in affirmation. 

“Your troop settles into one of the only remaining booths, and in less than a minute a staff member walks up to your table. She’s a little short and stout for a human her age—you figure out pretty quickly she’s a half-dwarf—and has vibrant blonde locks tucked up under an unseemly chest plate that’s just a little too big on her.”

“Let me take a wild guess,” Dean ventured. “That’s Jo.”

“Ding ding ding, we have a winner!” I overdramatically exclaimed. “She introduces herself by saying, ‘You’re the guys mom told me about, right? Bobby’s friends?’ She barely even waits for an answer before saying, ‘I’m Joabelle, Ellental’s daughter. You can just call me Jo though.’”

Grinning, Dean replied, “Well alright then, Jo-tho.”

“She giggles reflexively, but tries to keep her cool and nonchalantly clears her throat. ‘If you need anything, just let me know. Mom said whatever you want’s on the house tonight.’ Jody’s about to object to that, but Jo stops her before she can get out a single word. ‘She insists. It’s the least she can do to repay you for making the journey here.’ So, fellas…what’ll it be?”

The three thought for a few moments, which ended up being a moot point because Dean answered for all of them. “A round of your finest mead for the whole table!”

Castiel looked up at him with slight alarm while Sam just shrugged, accepting his fate.

“Jo nods and says, ‘Alright then, I’ll get that right out for you.’ She scurries off into the noise of the crowd and you quickly lose sight of her. Now…how to pass the night?”

“Shouldn’t we…come up with a game plan?” Sam suggested. “For tomorrow, I mean.”

“Jody is quick to agree with you. ‘The more prepared we can be, the better. Blind stealth missions may as well the same as suicide missions.’”

“Stealth may not necessarily be required,” Castiel added. “Or, at least not entirely. My brethren will happily accept people they believe to be interested in Aerol’uck teachings.” He faltered. “Although…they are sure to recognize me. I’ll need to be cautious and remain out of sight somehow.”

“We’ll worry about that later,” Dean dismissed. “In the meantime, is there anything you can tell us about your family? Anything we need to know, like any family drama, daddy issues and the like?”

“Um…you could say many of them have so-called ‘daddy issues,’” Castiel hesitantly confirmed. “Our father figure disappeared many years ago and has not been seen since. Most believe he is dead or has abandoned us for good. Don’t bring it up around them, whatever you do.”

“Noted,” Dean replied. “Anything else?”

“Aarakocras have rather black-and-white ways of thinking. You can use this to your advantage, I suspect…most of them wield magic and can be deadly strong if provoked. Additionally, it’s important to know that there are four high priests in the order, although only two of them remain that I know of. They wield the most power and authority over the flock. I should doubt you will come into contact with them, but make an effort to avoid them nonetheless.”

I just sat back and let Castiel do the talking for a while. To say the least, I was extremely impressed with his ability to flesh out this fantasy world I’d placed him in. Maybe he had a secret talent as a writer hidden somewhere in that millennia-old mind of his?

“How about the layout of the place?” Sam eventually asked. “Are there any places we should know about, or where Bobby would most likely be taken?”

Castiel was just about to show off his worldbuilding talents, but regrettably I had to cut him off. “Cassius shares the basic layout with you. Don’t fret over the details, they’ll be a part of our next session. Somewhere in the middle of your discussion, Jo returns, expertly balancing four cups of mead in her arms and sliding them across the table to each of you. Jody dons her mom voice and tells you, ‘Don’t get too carried away. We’re gonna need to be up bright and early for this rescue mission tomorrow.’”

“Okay, _mom_ ,” Dean laughed out. “Marlow takes a huge swig of mead and waits for Cassius to join the fun.”

Glancing uncertainly between Dean and his character sheet, Castiel said, “Cassius takes a hesitant sip, and…what does mead taste like?”

Seeing his time to shine, Dean answered, “It’s like fermented honey. Sometimes it’s fruity, too-”

Dean scarcely had time to go into further detail before Castiel announced, “Cassius is rather taken with the taste of honey. He doesn’t require much convincing to drink more.”

Smiling as I pictured the scene in my head, I relayed, “The four of you drink the night away, doing your best to heed Jody’s warnings. Jo refills your mugs a few times and even sticks around to chat briefly, and when you’re on your own you continue discussing plans for the morning. Inevitably, sleepiness takes over and you begin to feel the overwhelming need to lay down on the nearest flat surface and pass out.” Taking the twenty-sided die in hand, I announced, “And, as a bonus round, I’m gonna have each of you roll a constitution saving throw to see how well you followed Jody’s advice.”

The trio glanced nervously at each other. Dean was brazen enough to take the outstretched die first, rolling a 13.

“Not too bad, all things considered,” I measured, surprised. “You’re teetering on the edge between buzzed and drunk, but other than lacking some of your inhibitions for a while and being slightly dizzy, you’ll be fine.”

Castiel went next, very carefully and delicately rolling the die as though that would give him better odds. The D&D gods must have been feeling generous that night, for they granted him a merciful 15.

“You’re even better off than Marlow! You’re just buzzed and feeling looser and freer than usual, but that’s about it.”

Next it was Sam’s turn. I couldn’t detect any nervousness from him, but once the die landed on its mark, he groaned. He scored an 8.

“Hmm…well, in a shocking turn of events, Andus got a teensy bit carried away; must be his inner college kid. He’s having some trouble standing up straight and would most definitely not be able walk a straight line if asked. He’s gonna have at least an unpleasant headache when he wakes up tomorrow.”

Clicking his tongue, Dean chided, “Andy, Andy, Andy…I thought I taught you better than that.”

“Pretty sure Marlow’s the one who was hyping up getting wasted earlier,” Sam rebuked. “Not exactly setting the best example for his taller little brother, was he?”

“Oh, you just _had_ to bring height into it again, didn’t you?”

Both brothers faked glares in each other’s direction, but eventually their expressions fizzled as they burst into chuckles. It was beyond gratifying to see them acting so loose and carefree; I knew better than most just how rare a sight that was in their normal lives.

“Jo finds you all tuckered out in your booth,” I resumed. “She guides you through the tavern, which has fewer patrons and has quieted considerably over the course of the night, and takes you up a flight of stairs in the back.” I glanced at Dean. “Marlow will probably need to help Andus up those stairs, he’s having a little trouble walking even on flat ground.”

Dean shrugged. “He’s way too freakishly tall for Marlow to carry, but he lends his support as best as he can.”

“Upstairs is a sort of makeshift inn with a few hallways of homely bedrooms. Jo directs you to a hallway with four doors, one for each of you, and…” A well-timed yawn bubbled up in my throat and escaped into my hand. “Since you’re all rather tired, you stumble in and make yourselves cozy in your respective rooms.”

“So, Cassius gets his own room,” Castiel stated. “All by himself.”

“Well, yeah, but…” I sent him a knowing smirk. “He can always drop in and visit Marlow at some point if he wants.”

“Oh yeah, definitely,” Dean emphatically agreed. “Matter of fact, Marlow’s betting on it.”

A telltale blush crept up Castiel’s neck, but I spared him from having to explain himself. I ceremoniously shut the book and set it aside, yet again yawning as a genuine sleepiness threatened to drag me down.

“That’s where we’re ending it tonight?” Sam guessed, catching a slight yawn himself. “I was just thinking about heading to bed for real…” He trailed off as he thought to himself, jumping slightly when Wattson yapped from beneath his chair.

Without delay Sam scooped the puppy up in his arms, scratching behind his ears. “You feeling sleepy too, Watts? C’mon, let’s ask Silvan if he could spare any dog food, you need some dinner before bed…”

Just barely remembering to grab his character sheet on the way out, Sam departed the kitchen with a happy bundle of fluff in his arms. Dean huffed a fond laugh, pushing his chair back with a screech and gathering his own sheet to leave. Castiel quickly followed suit.

I took a few extra minutes to gather up my own supplies, reviewing my scatterbrained notes for the next session to keep them fresh in my mind. I only stepped outside once I was satisfied that I’d memorized enough stats and maps that they’d likely show up in my dreams.

The sun was setting at its early Dominican hour, casting red and pink across the sky that perfectly complemented the flowers in the yard below. It seemed that every time I took in the view of the ocean here, it looked like a different idyllic painting straight from some forlorn artist’s tropical dreams.

A heavy thunk against one of the nearby walls drew my attention away from the view. Silvan had dropped a massive bag of dog food beside the stairs, and beside him Sam was climbing upstairs carrying a bowl of dog chow with Wattson right at his heels.

Something peaceful clicked into place at the sight of such domestic tidiness. Things at the villa seemed to run like a well-oiled machine, no doubt largely due to Silvan’s efforts, and that alongside the ever-present soft yet heavy crashing of the waves put me entirely at ease.

That state of enlightened nirvana was soon interrupted by the smell of what I could only assume was a skunk wafting through the villa’s lower level.

My nose scrunched reflexively and I peered down into the yard in search of the smelly bandit responsible, but I soon remembered that the nearest skunk would be thousands of miles away. My gaze then turned towards the farthest corner of the first floor, and standing half-hidden behind the corner of the kitchen was Danny, puffing on a wad of rolled up paper.

“Danny smokes weed,” Silvan confirmed, joining me by the pool deck. “I can tell him to stop if it bothers you.”

“No, it’s fine,” I assured. “As long as he doesn’t go blowing it in my face, I don’t really care.”

Taking a deep breath and keeping his eyes locked on Danny, Silvan let himself untense.

“Is weed legal here?” I asked, just because I was curious.

“Technically, no,” Silvan answered. “But it’s barely regulated. Even if it was, that wouldn’t stop Danny; he does what he wants to. That is both his most endearing and obnoxious trait.”

Seeing an opportunity, I casually observed, “You know, the more I hear you talk about him, the more I realize you’re just as into him as he is into you.”

Silvan didn’t make any immediate move to deny that, which I took very close note of. All that time spent getting Dean and Castiel together really had taught me a thing or two about this matchmaking business.

“That would never work,” Silvan eventually dismissed, faintly chuckling at the notion.

“Why not?”

“He’s had so many partners. Like I said, he does what he wants…” A thoughtful look crossed his face as his gaze returned to Danny. “Although he did confide in me recently that he’d grown tired of jumping from person to person. Maybe he’s just maturing more, but he told me he wanted to settle with a long-term partner.”

_That_ sure was some significant information to take into account. “Did you consider that maybe he wasn’t just confiding in you, but…offering?”

Flushing slightly, Silvan waved a hand towards me and barked a laugh. “No, no, that couldn’t be it. Even he would know better than to pursue me with any degree of seriousness.”

I was already nearly positive I knew the answer, but I asked anyways, “Do you already have a partner?”

“Only had a few girlfriends in the past,” Silvan sighed. “Never worked out.”

“Do you know if you like guys?”

Seriously considering it, Silvan honestly answered, “I never really thought about that much. People on this island have bigger things to worry about than defining their sexuality.” A weight manifested on his tired shoulders. “And being gay here is no cakewalk. It seems like the laws here regulate that more than they do weed.”

Sympathy and an underlying tremor of anger swirled in my chest. I hadn’t even thought of discrimination, legal or otherwise, being part of the equation.

Hoping to diffuse the mood, I joked, “I’m gonna take a wild guess and say Danny doesn’t let that stop him either, right?”

“Nah,” Silvan answered noncommittally. “He knows his way around, managed to stay out of trouble so far. But…I do worry sometimes about what would happen if he ever got caught with a man. I know for a fact he’s gotten away with it before.”

I frowned as my vindictive side took hold. “It shouldn’t be something he has to ‘get away with’ in the first place. Whatever consenting adults get up to in private is their own business.”

Silvan laughed humorlessly. “Try convincing the government of that.” With that dreary note, he turned on his heel and headed towards the staircase, dragging what must have been the obscenely heavy bag of dog food downstairs.

Sighing as I incorporated this information into my plans, I returned to gazing over the ocean, seeking the pristine solace it never failed to instill in me. That solace remained uninterrupted for a few moments, but as always seemed to happen, something else broke it.

I felt Danny’s eyes on me before I could even look towards him. He wore a quizzical yet amused smile, and a flush of mild terror swept through me when I realized he may very well have overheard me talking with Silvan.

He must have noticed, because he promptly pinched the smoking end of his blunt and stowed it away in a plastic bag at his feet. Swiping up the bag, he strolled towards me, whistling a bouncy tune. If he _had_ heard us, he sure didn’t seem concerned about the topic discussed…

“Convincing the government to let go of decades-old homophobia is one thing,” Danny commented, pausing as he passed me. “But convincing Silvan to woo me? Now that takes real guts.”

Paralyzed, I stuttered, “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to- I just got this sense that you guys- and I know it’s not my business, but-”

“You’re good,” Danny dismissed, flippantly waving his bag and letting loose a pungent cloud of concentrated skunky smell. “Honestly, I thought all this had been lost on him. This proves there may be hope for him yet…”

With that mysterious conclusion, Danny set off towards the front door, resuming his upbeat, whistled tune and bouncing towards his car on light feet. Only once the puttering and booming music of his vehicle had faded from earshot did I feel that I could untense. How did I always forget that eavesdropping was a thing?

Speaking of eavesdropping, Castiel descended gracefully down the stairs several moments later, presumably returning from an evening check-in of his nest. He gave me a slight wave and smile as he passed, which I returned, and quietly retreated into his and Dean’s bedroom.

As unable to help myself as ever, I crept after him and slunk into the hammock, as was routine by that point. Though the door was closed, the windows remained unshuttered, providing a clear view of Castiel, now dressed in his usual attire, carefully folding his trench coat and stowing it atop the dresser.

Water I hadn’t even realized was running shut off in the bathroom, Dean emerging shortly thereafter in his usual pajama getup. Something playful glinted in his eye when he spotted Castiel, and for a few tense moments I feared I would have to flee the scene.

Thankfully for my sanity and everyone’s safety, Dean had other things in mind. Raising an eyebrow, he asked, “What brings a handsome crow like you to my bedchamber?”

Castiel mimed my initial confusion, tilting his head in Dean’s direction. He understood just a few moments after I did: Dean was continuing our D&D game. Castiel must have really been in the roleplaying spirit, because the instant he caught on, he played right along.

Wings shuffling impatiently as he shifted into character, Castiel countered, “I am not a crow. I’m a bowerbird.”

“Right, right,” Dean shook his head at the reminder. “Well then what’s a handsome bowerbird like you doing in my bedchamber?”

“Looking for someone to spend the night with,” Castiel replied without missing a beat.

Dean chuckled. “Whoa, well you get right to the point, dontcha?”

“Cassius is incredibly blunt, Dean. I’m just trying to stay in character.” Clearing his throat, Castiel continued, “I’m assuming that offer regarding your personal space still stands?”

“Hell yeah it does.” Daring to take a step closer, Dean flirted, “Dost thou quote the raven nevermore?”

Castiel squinted. “You quoted that incorrectly. And I’m not a raven, either.”

Smirking, Dean playfully replied, “But is it working?”

“As a flirtation technique?” Blushing and glancing towards one of the bedposts, Castiel admitted, “…Yes.”

“Figured you’d appreciate that; I pinned you as a bookworm.” Dean faltered. “Er, bookbird. Is that a thing?”

“No. But you could pioneer the term if you so desire.”

“Eh, maybe later.” Bursting with confidence, Dean took another step forward. “I’ve kinda got other desires on my mind at the moment.”

“So…you’re seeking to get intimate, as it were?”

Shrugging self-consciously, Dean defended, “You got straight to the point, so I figured I may as well, too.”

_Y’all both know you can’t do that,_ I thought emphatically. _Because 1) I’m right here, and 2) you’ll literally summon a squadron of ticked off angels out for our heads._

“Though I would like nothing more, that is a terrible idea,” Castiel quickly refuted. “As you know, my brethren have violently turned against me, and as a matter of fact have spells in place designed to alert them of my presence.”

Blinking, Dean slowly replied, “That…seems like something you should have told us earlier.”

“So long as nothing elicits too strong an emotional response from me, it isn’t a concern. That’s actually why I strive to act as collected and straightforward as possible; so long as I do, the Aerol’uck remain blind to my presence.”

_A little convoluted, but…hey, it contributes to Cassius’s character development, so whatever._

“I would loathe to bring any danger to you or the rest of our party,” Castiel continued. “So we will have to relegate ourselves to less emotionally intense activities.”

“Guess we’ll have to make do, then,” Dean sighed overdramatically. “That’s fine. You have anything in mind?”

Realizing the opportunity at hand, Castiel lifted one of his wings into view from around his back. “Now that you mention it…it is molting season. My molt is nearly done, but I am experiencing some lingering itchiness.”

Raising a questioning eyebrow and extending a hand towards Castiel’s outstretched wing, Dean cheekily offered, “Mind if I help out with that?”

“Normally, Aarakocras only allow their mate to touch their wings, but…since you are, in a way, fulfilling the role of mate for me tonight, I can make an exception. So yes, please,” Castiel courteously added, performing a cutesy sort of bowing motion with his wings.

Dean sure didn’t need to be told twice. He immediately grasped Castiel’s feathers and set to methodically scritching and pulling through them. Their owner sighed contentedly, unable to help but let a smile peek through Cassius’s stony mask.

“Didn’t know that Aara- Aarak-” Dean frowned as he failed to remember the name, settling on, “ _Bird people_ had such soft feathers.”

“We take care to preen them regularly,” Castiel boasted. “We take great pride in keeping up their appearance and texture.”

“Well I can tell ya, it sure pays off.” Dean chose that moment to reach a little farther, gingerly digging into the feathers at the base of Castiel’s wings.

An adorable low squeak escaped Castiel. Though he looked mildly mortified, Dean snickered and he soon followed suit. Taking the moment a step further, Dean linked his hands together behind Castiel and pulled him close. Their grinning faces were inches apart, and some part of me nearly burst into laughter imagining Cassius and Marlow in the same position. Marlow would be getting _quite_ a face full of bird beak right about now.

Inevitably, each of the pair’s eyes fell to each other’s lips. For a moment it seemed they would buckle under the tension and just got for it, but Dean had enough thought to keep their game going.

“You ever kissed anyone before, Cassius?” Dean asked.

“No,” Castiel swiftly answered. “Except for a brief encounter with a Tiefling some years ago, but that was more a misunderstanding than anything else.” He mumbled to the side, “She tasted like burnt peanuts anyways…”

That got a full-on laugh out of Dean. “Lemme guess, her name was…Meg somethin’ or other?”

“Megalus,” Castiel confirmed. “As for how you know that, I’m not sure I want an answer.”

_God dang it, guys,_ I jokingly lamented. _Stop adding extra details to my D &D storyline before I can even think to introduce them._ But I had to admit, Megalus was a decent fantasy name equivalent to Meg and I wasn’t planning on including her in the story anyways.

“More to the point…” Dean smoothly steered the conversation back on track. “You _wanna_ kiss someone other than a peanut-breath Tiefling? Like, say, a dashing human rogue?”

“Seeing as I have the opportunity right in front of me,” Castiel began, then rapidly switched gears. “Very, very much so.” He began to lean in.

“Quick question,” Dean interjected before their lips could meet. “How exactly am I supposed to kiss someone who’s got a beak?”

Face twisting in confusion, Castiel pulled away slightly. “You…don’t have to keep up the roleplaying for this entire time, Dean.”

Smirking, Dean challenged, “But where’s the fun in that, Cassius?”

A little smirk of Castiel’s own twitched onto his face as he relented. “Very well…Marlow. Let me show you how us beaked creatures do it.”

Satisfied, Dean bridged the remaining gap between them, engaging in a series of mushy smooches that Castiel gladly returned. There was an air of fresh hesitance that encircled them, likely as a result of them channeling their characters so well.

Although they kissed as they normally would, my mind couldn’t help but wonder: how would one really kiss someone with a beak? Like…would they just smooch along the side of the seam, or face the pointed tip and risk its sharp fury? Or…would they just _peck_ on the lips?

Heh. I actually chuckled into the back of my hand when that pun occurred to me.

My mind snapped right back to attention as the kissing noticeably picked up. Castiel maneuvered to sit on the bed, guiding Dean down beside him and…

Yeeeaaaaah this was gonna turn into a full-on make out session. Feeling distinctly uncomfortable, I shimmied around in the hammock to face the ocean and give them some privacy.

The ocean’s song largely drowned out the discordant smacking of lips from the other room. The sun had set by then, casting a blanket of gentle, embracing night over the island. Birds and insects sang along with the waves, serving as the sea’s backup jazz ensemble. Though undoubtedly chaotic, it was beautiful to me; though perhaps I was biased. I had always associated a tropical backdrop with simpler times of travel and sailing, of youthful nonchalance and lack of responsibility.

Those times were easier. _Happier,_ amended a dark voice in the back of my mind. And though it stung to admit it, I knew it was right. The last time I’d been in the Caribbean, my family situation had been as peaceful as an atoll’s waters, and any stresses from multiversal felines were just the stuff of my rampant imagination. Things would never be that way again.

_But…at least now I’m not alone; I have them,_ a flickering thought pointed out, only to be harshly extinguished by another that hissed, _Only because of your selfish wish._

I physically recoiled at the violence of that thought. Guilt I’d been shoving down clawed its way up my gut, leaving searing tracks through my chest and abdomen. I didn’t want to believe that, but it felt true.

_They wouldn’t even be involved in any of this mess if you’d kept to yourself like you’re supposed to._

Feeling the warning pinpricks of anxiety in my fingertips, I fidgeted in place and locked my eyes on the dark waters below. Merely seeing and hearing their motion dulled the edge of the destructive thoughts in my head.

Taking a deep breath of soothing, salty air, I quelled my warring thoughts as best as I could with the single assertion that felt truer than any other: _They might not be as happy, either._

I dared to peek behind me, just enough to prove to myself that it was true. From my cursory glance, I saw Dean casually sprawled atop Castiel, the pair lazily smooching as they leaned against the headboard of their bed.

_Yeah,_ I affirmed as I returned to gazing at the ocean. _That would not be happening right now if I hadn’t gotten involved._

Having weathered that bout of troubled thoughts, I returned to admiring the atmosphere of the island, appreciating it in the moment this time rather than through wistful memories.

At some point, the smooching quieted down. I chanced another cautious peek behind me, and seeing that the pair had settled down, shimmied back to face the windows. Dean still laid atop Castiel, his head resting serenely on the angel’s chest. Each had their arms loosely draped around the other.

“So…” Castiel softly broke the silence. “What is your verdict on the method of beaked creatures?”

“My verdict?” Dean murmured, momentarily peering upwards and then faceplanting back into Castiel’s suit. “Mmm…that you’re soft…n’ comfy.”

Pinkening slightly at Dean’s words, Castiel gathered himself. “I would say the same for you.”

“And you? What’s your verdict on tryin’ it out with a human?”

Castiel mimed delving into a mineshaft of thought, his eyes glazing over as they stared across the room. 

“My verdict is…” A sappy smile broke out on his face. “That you are incredibly pleasant to cuddle.”

To prove his point, Castiel wrapped his arms tighter around Dean, pulling him upwards into a constricting but gentle hug.

Scoffing with a strangled laugh, Dean allowed himself to nestle down into the new position, taking full advantage of the closeness Castiel was offering him.

Smirking slightly at the response, Castiel continued, “Additionally, you are quite pleasant to snuggle…”

Two black wings swung around and captured Dean in their feathery grasp. Their target squirmed and laughed on impulse, but settled down as they soothed and petted down his back.

“And,” Castiel calmly continued, “you are awfully pleasant to nuzzle…”

He leaned down somewhat and burrowed his nose into what he could reach of Dean’s hair.

“…To caress…”

He moved one hand down Dean’s cheek, down his neck and shoulder, and all the way to the tip of his arm. Their hands found each other like magnets and stayed attached as such.

“…To kiss…”

His lips pressed a long kiss to Dean’s forehead. Dean shyly hid his face in Castiel’s chest, accepting the affectionate attentions of his angel.

“…And generally, you are pleasant to have close,” Castiel finished, satisfied by his work. “In fact…”

The wings slowed their caresses, and Dean peered up in curiosity.

“Although I have only known you for scarcely two days, I feel as if there’s a connection, or… _bond_ between us; one of the kind in which destiny has intertwined our paths. In short, Marlow, I believe I love you.”

For a few moments, “Cassius’s” words hung in the air, drifting on the cool ocean breeze and the sounds of its roaring waves. Dean stared up at him, seemingly at a loss.

“…Dean?” Castiel broke character in a moment of worry.

“I’m trying to figure out how Marlow would respond to that,” Dean answered without missing a beat. “Love you too, by the way,” he added with a cheeky grin.

Castiel grinned back, patiently awaiting Marlow’s reply. 

Finally, Dean cleared his throat and got back into Marlow’s headspace. “Well gee, Cassius, that’s uh…pretty flattering. You’re…you know.” He cleared his throat again, although it was a little more forced this time. “You’re also pleasant to be close to.”

Tilting his head knowingly, Castiel patiently answered, “Hardly the sentimental type, I see. Perhaps your elven brother would be more receptive to my romantic advances…”

“What, no!” Dean cried on impulse, and realized a moment too late he was being teased.

Chuckling warmly, Castiel joked, “For such a mysterious rogue, your feelings sure are obvious when one gets close enough.”

“Shut up, ya big bird,” Dean fired back, chuckling along.

As their laughter settled, an air of utter ease descended. Both of them just kept staring at each other with dopey grins like a couple of dorks. The need for conversation had faded, and instead they communicated through intense stares as they often had before. I couldn’t decipher what exactly it was they were saying, but if I had to make an educated guess it was likely something along the lines of “you’re the light of my life and I adore you.”

Their eyes drew them incrementally closer to each other, and eventually their lips met once more for a tender kiss. A familiar blue light blossomed between them, eliciting a sound from Dean that was half laugh, half groan.

Immediately upon breaking the kiss, Dean fell back onto Castiel, blissfully shuffling into a comfortable position. A small yawn escaped him, and from what I could see his eyes were shuttering between open and closed.

“You’re sleepy,” Castiel observed. When Dean just hummed and nodded, he asked, “Would it be permissible for me to spend the night with you?”

“Go right ahead,” Dean mumbled, burying his face into the crook of Castiel’s arm. “Yer the comfiest damn pillow I’ve ever had the pleasure of laying on…”

“The pleasure’s all mine,” Castiel warmly replied, reaching down to stroke through Dean’s hair. He raised a finger towards the far wall, and with a click, his celestial powers turned off the lights. He immediately set back to scritching at Dean’s scalp, lulling him into a delightful sleep.

Taking that as my cue, I silently slipped out of the hammock and climbed upstairs, intent on chasing my own delightful sleep. My feet were dragging a little by the time I was safely in my room and ready for bed, but the comfort of the soft blankets and the island’s symphony carried me effortlessly into dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeeeaaah I got a little too invested in the storylines and developments of TFW's D&D characters. I have...no excuse other than that I adore character development to an unhealthy degree.
> 
> Also yep, one of the more unfortunate things about Dominica is how staunchly homophobic the government has proven to be. ;w; As a matter of fact, one of the Evangelical leaders on the island, Bill Daniel, said that he and his organization "want the government to ensure that gay tourists do not come to the island and conduct themselves in any immoral way" and that Dominica shouldn't be promoted as a "gay tourist destination." Joke's on him tho, cause I'm a girl who romantically leans towards other girls and I LOVED the island! Not to mention I spent a large portion of my time there writing this extremely gay fanfic, and I was all the more motivated to do so out of spite! Suck it, Bill Daniel, I wrote a story with two gay romances on and inspired by Dominica, and you can't do anything about it! OwO
> 
> (On a somewhat related note, one of the Villa's neighbors was a gay dentist who lived in Calibishe with his partner. I was tempted to work him into the story somehow, but it didn't prove relevant enough.)
> 
> Photo of Wotten Waven hot spring: http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-SoEC0Uk0730/TitYp-BLcTI/AAAAAAAAAHk/2n7MU9upWa0/s1600/DSCN0545.JPG
> 
> Photo of Wattson: https://static.wixstatic.com/media/db2410_d93fb8d4a85f4f409c97d0361489acb8~mv2.jpg/v1/crop/x_243,y_0,w_560,h_848/fill/w_460,h_697,al_c,q_80,usm_0.66_1.00_0.01/db2410_d93fb8d4a85f4f409c97d0361489acb8~mv2.jpg


	8. In which your procrastination catches up to you, Dean is drowsy, Castiel becomes an aquarist, and Sam is a gentle moose

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for this chapter: it contains a description of a pretty violent panic attack and very brief self-destructive ideation.

_5/30/18_

My salvaged internal clock roused me at the usual time of 6:30 the next morning, gently prying me from dreams of parasailing over the waves and riding atop giant, black-feathered seagulls. I allowed myself to be sluggish whilst going about my morning routine. Although outwardly I was relaxed, inwardly something was gnawing at my gut. I knew what it was, though I didn’t want to name it: I still had no clue how to prove my wish worthy, and I was running out of time.

Stubbornly (and rather stupidly) deciding to ignore any and all mental mention of the looming deadline, I put on my best happy face and left my bedroom. The air somehow felt even warmer outside than usual, likely owing to a lack of clouds, and I found myself gravitating towards the edge of the balcony to soak up the sun’s heat.

Something abruptly yapped right behind me, startling me so badly that I nearly tumbled over the railing. I soon calmed when I turned to see it was just Wattson emerging from the study. His stumpy tail wagged and his tongue lolled haphazardly from the confines of his mouth. His golden fur was slick with water and clung to his tiny frame, dripping onto the wooden floor.

“Hey Wattson,” I greeted, squatting down and extending a hand towards the pup. “Did you take a bath?”

“Cleaned him off in the shower,” Sam answered, exiting the study with a towel in hand. “His fur was so dirty, I just couldn’t stand him having to live with it.”

“That’s sweet.” I extended my hand further for Wattson to sniff it. “I swear, you were born to be a dog owner.”

“Not in my line of work,” Sam sighed. “Until now, anyways.” Unfolding the towel, he reached down and scooped Wattson into its soft grasp, simultaneously swaddling and drying the puppy.

Any morning that started with a moose-man cooing and caring for an adorable puppy was guaranteed to be the precursor to an amazing day, I just knew it.

Leaving Sam to his newfound duties as a dog owner, I descended the stairs with an unmistakable spring in my step. Silvan was already hard at work dragging a cleaning net through the infinity pool, although it already looked pristine as far as I could tell.

“You may want to get a quick breakfast and grab some snacks,” Silvan advised, not even looking up from the pool’s blue surface. “I have an all-day trip planned for us.”

“What do you have planned?” I asked, excited at the prospect.

“You’ll see,” was his only cryptic reply. “I think you’ll like it. Make sure you wear your bathing suit again, too.”

Knowing I wouldn’t get any more information out of him, I bottled up my anticipation for the time being and strolled into the kitchen. Dean was seated at the table, dipping a spoon into a bowl of milk and cereal. He mumbled something that sounded vaguely like “good morning” through a mouthful of soggy cereal bits, and I just stifled a laugh and waved.

I dug around in the pantry to retrieve the box of cereal, but along the way uncovered a treasure trove of hidden snacks. Most of them were off-brand, likely imported from other countries, but I gathered a few of the more recognizable ones as Silvan suggested before pouring my own bowl of cereal.

Dean had already polished off his own breakfast by the time I sat down to eat, but he gladly stuck around to debate what Silvan had in store for us. I could practically feel his extraverted-ness siphoning away my introverted social energy, but it was early enough in the day that I had plenty to spare.

Once I’d had my fill of breakfast, I gathered my amassed snacks and returned upstairs to prepare for the day. I ran into Castiel right as he was sneaking out of his “nestroom.” I merely gave him a knowing smile and retreated into my own room. My swimsuit was—thankfully—mostly dry since I’d thought to hang it up in my bathroom last night, though it was slightly damp and clung uncomfortably to my skin once it was on.

Seeing as I was the first person ready to leave, I passed the time by plopping myself down in one of the balcony’s sun-heated armchairs and fleshing out the rest of my D&D notes. I got so engrossed in filling out the stats of some enemies for the next session that I jumped when Silvan yelled to me.

“Are we ready?” he triumphantly cried.

“B-be down in a minute!” I gushed, rushing to fold up my papers and stow them safely in my room. By the time I came dashing down the stairs, clad in my coverup and grasping a plastic bag with a towel and snacks, everyone else had already congregated by the entrance. Wattson was happily cradled in Sam’s arms, looking about expectantly.

Eve and Jack barked their (presumably) friendly farewells once we’d piled into the jeep and set off. I may or may not have encouraged Sam to sit with me and Castiel in the back seat so we could spend the drive fawning over Wattson. Of course, Wattson himself was more than happy with this arrangement.

The roads were no less bumpy than usual that day; if anything, the drive was a little rougher. Silvan guided the jeep along a particularly unkept road bordered by walls of tropical grass. For the majority of the trip we encountered no signs of civilization, aside from a few more groups of relief workers waging war against the invasive vines choking the roadside.

Eventually, just as Wattson was at last settling down to curl up in my lap, Silvan pulled off the road onto a gravelly side path. Sparse woodland encompassed the worn-down road ahead, and I instinctively braced myself for the immensely bumpy ride I was sure would follow.

Instead, Silvan stopped the car and turned its key, dimming the engine’s hum. All of us gave him a confused look, and he shrugged apologetically.

“Maria tore up the road here,” he explained. “You could do it in four-wheel drive, but we don’t have that. This is a knockoff jeep, not a real one.”

“So we’re walking,” Dean surmised.

Silvan grinned widely. “Should make for some good exercise! The destination is worth the distance, I promise.”

Fueled by eagerness to see said destination, I gladly hopped out of the car after my friends. Our procession trekked down the uneven, rocky road with Silvan in the lead. I could see what he meant by Maria tearing it up; as with most areas on the island, trees had been ripped up and tossed away, exposing the ground to direct sunlight and distorting the terrain. Clusters of grass and saplings had taken root along the path, soaking up the newfound rays and making obstacles for us to traverse.

Among the miscellaneous debris, several massive palm tree fronds were draped across the road. Castiel paused to pick one of them up, dislodging dust and dirt in a shower.

Dean already knew what the angel was thinking. “Cas, I know [Y/N] got you addicted to beach coming, but you can’t bring that back with you. It won’t fit in the car.”

Castiel just stared back in mild defiance and flapped his wings, disappearing from sight and kicking up even more dust. A few moments later, he reappeared without the frond.

“There,” he stated plainly. “It’s already back at the Villa.”

Knowing he couldn’t argue with that, Dean just turned back around and continued on his merry way, taking big steps to catch up with the rest of the group. Castiel claimed no less than five other giant fronds from the path, teleporting away and back with each one to add it to his collection.

All in all, the hike took roughly fifteen minutes. We were all sweating by the time we neared the bottom of the hill, in part due to the overbearing blanket of heat that was the tropical sun. Silvan stopped at a particularly damaged area of the roadside where not a single tree remained to block the view, and for the first and only time, I was grateful for the devastation.

“Holy cow…” I breathed out, joining Silvan by the overlook.

Below us was a beach of the kind you only see in dreams. It was a crescent of pure white sand carved at the edge of a sturdy, sloped rainforest. Ancient palm trees hung low over the entire expanse, seamlessly casting their shadows over the sand and water. Several benches and tables carved from wood sat higher up, sheltered by the trees. In essence, it was a hidden cove straight from a tropical fantasyland.

Chuckling at our stunned silence, Silvan announced, “Welcome to Batibou beach, one of Dominica’s most well-hidden treasures. Enjoy.”

Running with new gusto, I descended the short remainder of the road towards the beach itself. It was just as magnificent up-close as it was from above, made all the better by the fresh tang of salty air and the nearby thundering of land meeting sea.

The Winchesters and Wattson were hot on my heels. They joined me in staring at the ocean, awestruck by the sight; though for a different reason than I was.

“I’ll race you,” Dean challenged, already assuming a running stance.

“You’re on,” Sam agreed, shuffling off his t-shirt and assuming a stance of his own.

“I’ll referee,” I volunteered, standing aside and waiting for them each to line up at the imaginary starting line. Once both of them had shed their coverups, kicked off their shoes, and assumed position, I shouted theatrically, “On your marks, get set, and go!”

They were off like a pair rockets, kicking up sand and all but booking it towards the water. Sam took the initial lead, Wattson trailing dutifully behind him, though he hopped and stumbled a little over the superheated sand just enough for Dean to catch up. They crashed into the surf with a cacophony of splashes and sprays, both of them tripping in the waves and tumbling into the water. It was a close finish, and with how violently they collided with the water, I couldn’t possibly tell who had reached it first.

Not that they seemed to care. Competition forgotten, the brothers’ heads popped up from the surf, coughing and laughing as they flailed in the waves. I watched them for a few moments longer as they stabilized themselves and began kicking further offshore. Sam kept a close eye on Wattson, who expertly doggy paddled beside him and mirthfully rolled about in the water.

“I always wonder why they must make everything into a competition,” Castiel commented, striding down the path to stand beside me.

“It’s a brother thing,” I dismissed. “Surely you and your siblings had something similar, right?”

Squinting at the horizon, Castiel said, “The only sibling rivalry between angels typically involves one or more of us getting stabbed.”

The smile quickly fell from my face. “…I probably should have guessed that.”

“On a lighter note, would you like to be my…” Castiel frowned in concentration. “’Beachcombing buddy’ for a while?”

“Oh, you know it!” I brightened immediately.

Once we’d stowed our outerwear, shoes and supplies at one of the tables, Castiel and I began meticulously scouring every inch of sand we could. We started small, peering under and around the rows of chairs and tables for any hidden treasures.

“Beachcombing?” Silvan guessed as he approached, setting down a bag of his own supplies alongside ours.

“Yep!” I chirped, crawling under the table and snatching up a hidden branch of dead coral.

“Batibou is a great place for it,” Silvan affirmed. “Check out the edge of the water, it has a lot of unusual stuff.”

“Would you care to join us?” Castiel invited, stowing a pair of twin cowry shells he’d unearthed atop the table.

“Thank you, but no,” Silvan politely declined. “I’ve had more than my share of beachcombing living here.”

Leaving Silvan to settle onto one of the benches and soak up the sun, Castiel and I gravitated towards the water’s edge. Several oddly-shaped and brightly-colored shells caught our eye on the way down, which we split between us, but the real hoard of goodies lay right at the shoreline.

Silvan wasn’t kidding when he said it held a lot of unusual stuff. With each new wave that pounded into the earth came a swath of shards, shells, skeletons, and plant life. It became a race to pick through as much of the pile as we could before another wave came and washed it clean. We ended up with several exemplary shells, a lobster whisker of ridiculous length, a handful of sea glass shards, crab shell fragments, and lotsa coral bits. Silvan graciously volunteered to hold onto them for us.

That venture done, I found myself instinctually walking towards and then wading deeper and deeper into the water, drawn ever forward by the ocean’s spell like a sailor to a siren’s song. Unlike an entranced sailor, I kept enough of my wits about me to start swimming, paddling and gliding as I’d been taught from a young age. I let the up and down motion of the waves carry me where they willed, relishing the sensation of being one with the sea.

My trance was broken somewhat by several large splashes behind me. Stopping to tread water, I turned to see Castiel swimming towards me, clumsily flapping his wings against the surface of the water. I couldn’t help but laugh at his unseemly method, earning me an unamused stare from the angel. Giving up his fruitless “wing paddle” method, he flipped onto his back, spreading out his wings and using surface tension to roll with the waves. Somewhere farther out to sea, Sam, Dean, and little Wattson were swimming back and forth, peering through the crystal blue in search of underwater anomalies.

For the next thirty minutes or so, I attempted to impart some of my humanly swimming techniques onto Castiel. He understood the basics, although imitating my movements was challenging with his ungainly wings in the way, and he refused to make them incorporeal for fear of losing his balance. Eventually, he just settled for using his wings to semi-efficiently propel himself through the water.

“Normally when I’m in water, I just walk along the bottom,” Castiel grumbled.

“Why don’t you try that?” I suggested. “If it comes more naturally to you.”

Blinking, Castiel went stock-still and let his body descend into the water until it was totally submerged. It was surreal seeing an entire person standing upright underwater, even more so when that person began nonchalantly walking deeper along the sand as though he was taking a casual afternoon stroll down a sidewalk.

Watching Castiel with amusement through the perfect clear water, I swam above him to keep track of where he ventured. Eventually my arms began to tire, lightly burning from the effort of staying afloat. I was forced to backtrack to shallower waters so I could rest my muscles.

For a while I resigned myself to wading around the shallows, kicking up sand and riding the waves. A large mass began approaching in my peripheral vision, and my first instinct was “oh god it’s a manta ray run run _run_ ,” but it was just Castiel walking towards me with his wings spread out to dry.

In his hands was a small, hardened piece of white coral with one remaining splash of orangish color. Perplexed, I met him halfway and leaned down to examine the specimen.

“I found a starfish,” he said, holding his discovery out further.

And sure enough, that splash of lively orange was none other than a small, skinny-legged brittle starfish. Even for a starfish its size, it was awfully frail. One of its five legs was outright missing, and its remaining limbs curled weakly around the dead piece of coral it was laying on.

“It isn’t well,” Castiel relayed, holding it closer to his face to better observe it. “It has an infection. It hasn’t been able to eat for days.”

“That’s awful,” I muttered, feeling pity for the poor creature. I’d come across my fair share of sickened or near-dead sea life, and it always hurt to have to leave them behind when you knew you couldn’t do anything for them.

Frowning in concentration, Castiel held out a finger and pressed it against the starfish’s center. Celestial tinkling briefly filled the air, and the instant Castiel’s finger retreated, the starfish’s arms began to flail with new vigor.

“Did you heal it?” I gasped, having completely forgotten about Castiel’s healing powers.

“I did,” Castiel confirmed, though he still eyed the creature with concern. “But it’s still weak from lack of food, and since it’s missing a limb, I doubt it will survive in the wild.”

Hopes dropping once more, I sighed. “Is there anything else we can do, then?”

“I could bring it back to the Villa and care for it until it’s well again.”

I brightened. “That’s a great idea!”

“What’s a great idea?” Dean asked, wading through the surf to join us. “Whoa! That is one freaky-looking starfish.”

“A brittle starfish!” I proudly identified.

Holding the coral and its inhabitant out towards a very befuddled Dean, Castiel requested, “Dean, could you please hold onto it while I teleport back to the Villa and prepare accommodations for it there?”

Dean blinked. “Wait, are you saying…Cas, you can’t take a wild sea animal back home with you.”

“Actually,” I piped up, “when I was a kid living on the ocean, I had a starfish nursery once. We were anchored off this one beach for a while, and there were these hidden tidepools that were just perfect for it…I kept starfish with missing legs in them until they healed, fed them bits of food and took them into shallow water on walks. It worked out pretty well.” 

Both of them stared at me for a while.

“Is there anything you _didn’t_ do on that sailboat?” Dean finally asked.

“Never got bored,” I quipped.

Sighing, Dean cautiously took the coral into his own hands. “Fine, Cas, you can look after the starfish.”

Smiling his gratitude, Castiel flapped his wings and disappeared. I glanced towards Silvan to make sure he hadn’t seen, but he seemed wrapped up in a book he’d packed along and didn’t even glance up from its pages.

Cautiously examining the starfish, Dean mumbled, “This thing isn’t, like…poisonous or something, right?”

“Nah, it’s safe,” I assured him. “Brittle stars may look a little intimidating, but they’re harmless as long as you’re not a worm or piece of detritus.”

Still apprehensive, Dean held the coral what he deemed a safe distance away from his body as he plodded onto the shore. I stumbled out after him, letting my toes sink into the deliciously damp sand.

“Here,” I offered, scooping up seawater into my cupped hands and gingerly pouring it over the brittle star. “You want to keep it hydrated. Being out of the water for too long is bad for any starfish.”

The next several minutes passed with me and Dean meandering along the shoreline, waiting for Castiel’s return. I spent most of the time kicking at the waves and rehydrating the starfish every so often, while Dean periodically checked to make sure his brother was still afloat in the distance.

The longer we walked, the more apparent it became how large yet compact Batibou was, stretched between two extreme peaks of land but contained wholly within them. Alternating patches of shade and hot sand spattered the landscape, and water-soaked logs and downed trees lay half-embedded in the damp earth. I skipped between the varied landscapes, leaping upon and balancing atop the spongy wood whenever I could.

A loud flapping of feathers signaled Castiel’s return. He popped into existence mere feet ahead of us, balancing a glass bowl of seawater, sand, and carefully arranged aquatic weeds. Dean seemed glad to pass the starfish to him, flinching as its limbs twisted about in the air. Without a word, Castiel securely placed the coral into the center of the tank and teleported away. This time, he returned within seconds, sans aquarium.

“The starfish is now safe and ready to be cared for,” Castiel proudly announced.

“Heck yeah!” I cheered, fist bumping the air. “You gonna name it?”

“First a dog, and now a starfish…” Dean mumbled. “We’ll be living in a zoo before long…”

“I see no point in naming it.” Castiel shook his head. “No, I would only risk becoming attached to it. Starfish belong in their natural habitat.”

“Thank you for being the sensible one, Cas,” Dean exhaled, clapping the angel on the shoulder. “No more wild animals though, okay?”

Before Castiel could agree or contest that, Sam’s voice cried out from the outermost edge of the cove. Dean’s head snapped up, ready to enter rescue mode if needed, but he settled upon seeing Sam seated safely on a rocky outcropping with Wattson beside him. He waved and called to us, and though his voice could barely break through the cacophony of waves, I heard at least one word loud and clear: “reef.”

The mere mention of a reef made me start vibrating with excitement. Without waiting for either of my companions, I dashed back into the cold, lurching embrace of the waves and paddled towards Sam’s spot with wild abandon. Sure enough, upon closing in on his location, I peered down through the crystalline water and saw a small but lively reef clustered along the underwater base of the cliff.

Though I lacked a mask or snorkel, the water was clear enough that I barely needed anything to get a pristine view of the colorful aquatic city under my feet. Schools of reef fish drifted in valleys between masses of sponges and brain coral, and I even spied a few decadent Christmas tree worms poking out among the colorful amalgamation of corals.

I treaded water above the reef, striving to identify every detail possible and occasionally reaching up to pet Wattson when he neared the water’s edge. There were urchins peeking menacingly from crannies in the rock, crabs scuttling along the sand, a lobster swinging its whiskers from a sheltered cave, and even a few seahorses wrapped around the holes of a sea fan. Nostalgia and adoration hit me with a wave like none the ocean could procure, clogging my chest with emotion.

I just…loved the ocean. _So much._

Swaying with the watery swells, I let my appreciation for the natural life forms below calm me. Something dark and wide drifted into my peripheral sight, and once more my brain yelped “giant manta ray run run _rUN_ ,” but this time I was quicker to remember my angel friend and his dark wingspan.

Castiel came striding along underwater, trudging against the current and viewing the reef up-close. Several of the fish darted away at the sight of his massive wings, and looking abashed, he folded them down against his back.

“Is he…” Sam hesitated. “Just walking…underwater?”

“It’s easier than swimming with those big wings,” I defended, though privately I couldn’t deny how odd it looked.

Once I’d had my fill of observing the reef’s functions (and Castiel’s humorous attempts to get close to said functions), I swam back to shore, hugging the far cliff of the beach. There was an assortment of shells spread out on the sand, which I sifted through in search of Batibou’s finest. Dean joined me and volunteered to help out, which I thought was a sweet gesture; even though he didn’t have an inkling that these shells were part of Castiel’s surprise.

The tide rose steadily as the day wore on, encroaching farther and farther into our beachcombing spot. We inched further up the beach with each successive wave, eventually driving us back against one of the fallen logs. My foot slipped into a shallow pool of warm water and I recoiled, but it was just a small stream trickling into the ocean.

Unable to repress my curiosity, I followed the stream until I found its source: an extensive estuary sheltered by the forest. The soil was orange and teeming with tiny fish, forming mounds of earth that served as stepping stones along its peaceful shore. I leaped from sandbar to sandbar, leaning as close to the water’s surface as I dared to parse its contents.

Curious as ever, Dean followed and waded right into the estuary, minding the schools of baby fish along the shaded edges. Each step he took kicked up a pile of thick sediment, and I remembered a lesson I’d learned the hard way when I was younger.

“Dean, be careful of the river sand!” I warned. “It’s really-”

“Sticky, I know,” Dean finished for me. He bounced in place. “I can feel it.”

“Don’t do that!” I exclaimed. “You might get stuck!”

Dean scoffed. “I’m not gonna get-” He cut himself off, a puzzled look on his face as he stared down at his feet. Though his legs wiggled, he wasn’t moving anywhere. “No, I’m not…” He struggled more for a moment, then gave up. “…Okay, I’m stuck.”

Sighing overdramatically, I leaned over the riverbank and grabbed Dean’s hand, trying to pull him free of the sand’s grasp. The problem was, Dean was a pretty big guy compared to me, and I didn’t have any good leverage to yank him out. The more he moved, the deeper into the mucky riverbed he sank.

“Is this quicksand?” Dean abruptly demanded, growing more worried by the second. “Am I in quicksand?”

“No,” I replied impulsively, but when I thought about it… “Well, maybe. I don’t think so.”

Glaring down at his feet, Dean said, “That’s it, call Cas. I’m not risking it.”

Since that really was our best option at that moment, I clapped my palms together and assumed a prayer position. “Hey Cas, we’re in a little bit of a pickle here. Nothing too big, don’t worry, but uh…Dean might be stuck in quicksand, so we need your angelic strength.”

“So it _is_ quicksand,” Dean interrupted, giving me an accusatory glare.

I turned back to him to retort, “We don’t know if it is!” I resumed praying. “Just get over here and rescue your damsel in distress boyfriend.”

“I am _not_ in distress!” Dean objected. “I’m just stuck!”

Before I could insist that he was both stuck and in resulting distress, I got hit with a spontaneous splash of water across the face. I had to wipe at my eyes to be able to see what had happened, but even through blurry vision it was plain to see: Castiel had teleported directly to us, sending a spray of water out in all directions. I’d completely forgotten that I’d left him underwater…

“Here,” Castiel offered, getting down to business and offering his hands out to Dean.

Dean clung to Castiel’s grip as best as he could while the angel tugged. I stood to the side, feeling useless but quietly cheering them on. At some point Castiel started flapping his wings for extra leverage, and that was enough. With a resounding, mucky “pop!” Dean was pulled free of the river, stumbling onshore and nearly falling onto Castiel.

The angel helped him keep his balance, steadying him with arms on his shoulders. They tersely stared at each other, Dean hovering awkwardly in Castiel’s impromptu embrace.

“You guys look like the poster for a cheesy rom-com,” I snickered.

“A cheesy rom-com that would win several Oscars,” Dean replied, consciously leaning more heavily on Castiel to accentuate the pose.

“Sure,” I deadpanned. “Just stay out of the river from now on.”

The tug of the ocean still held fast to my being, so I ended up being drawn back into the blue again before long. Dean and Castiel joined me, the latter managing to stay above water. Somehow, as always ends up happening when a group of friends finds themselves in a body of water, we got into a splash war. Though I was a hardened veteran of splash combat, Castiel had the definite advantage. All he had to do was swipe one of his wings through a wave to create an inescapable wall of water.

By the time Dean and I had tapped out, the sun had waned into the afternoon. Castiel left the water, leaving a trail of sopping feathers and citing the need to dry the crusty salt off his wings. Dean opted to join Sam and Wattson by the reef since he hadn’t explored it yet, which left me alone with my beloved ocean.

…But even I could only take the ocean for so long. My fingers were beyond pruned, and Castiel’s mention of crusted salt made me all too aware of the layer of salt covering my own hair and body. Shivering slightly, I dashed out of the surf, joining Castiel where he stood spreading his wings in the sunlight. His feathers gleamed a lovely blue in the intense light, and I couldn’t help but be reminded of a cormorant drying its wings after a spot of fishing.

“You wanna do any more beachcombing?” I asked, being careful not to startle him with my approach.

“The urge is certainly persistent…” Castiel conceded. He seemed to make up his mind, his plumage ruffling up somewhat and shaking off lingering dewdrops of water. “Yes, I would enjoy more beachcombing.”

This time we ventured into territory we had yet to explore on the righthand side of the beach. The cliff edge there wasn’t nearly as steep but was still, for all intents and purposes, insurmountable. Several large, barnacle-ridden boulders rested in the junction between the water’s edge and dry land, each one housing entire communities of black-and-white shelled snails. Better yet for our purposes, the rocks created grooves in the sand similar to tidepools and chocked full of beachcombing treasures.

We found much of the usual: more shells, sea glass, a few colorful strands of teal thread leftover from garbage, and a gorgeous spotted, brown and yellow lobster tail. Yet there was one object that took the entire cake and ate it, too.

A sliver of something green peeked out from beneath a pile of white coral shards in one of the pools. I motioned for Castiel to check it out, knowing he sought green decorations, and was flabbergasted when he lifted it from its sandy prison.

It was a piece of sea glass unlike any I’d ever seen before. It was the lip of a beer bottle that had been broken off as a perfect ring. Its bottom edge was lined with jagged but smoothed-over peaks, while the top was a flawless circle. It must have drifted in the sea for a long time, because specks of red and blue coral growth had attached themselves to its surface in a few places, creating a beautiful contrast of color.

For a few moments, Castiel and I both stared in wonder at our discovery. I reached out to hold it for myself, twisting it around in the sunlight in sheer disbelief.

“Years of beachcombing and collecting sea glass,” I said, “and I have never seen anything like this. What are the odds of a bottle breaking so perfectly that its lip stays like this?”

“One in seventy million, four hundred thousand and two, I’d estimate” Castiel answered, his eyes never leaving the glass.

“This is…” I swallowed. “This is like a gift straight from the ocean itself!” I looked out over the waves, wishing I could express my gratitude to the very concept of the ocean. This find was once in a lifetime.

“And look!” I added, experimentally slipping the lip over my finger. “It works like a ring! It’s a little big on my finger, though…here.”

Before Castiel could object, I took one of his hands and slid the glass ring over his index finger. He watched with initial alarm, but calmed when I released his hand, thoughtfully spinning his new accessory around.

“A perfect fit,” I declared.

A pair of sandy footsteps approached our little corner, followed by a sandy scampering of what could only be puppy paws.

“Whatever’s going on,” Dean threatened jokingly, “that better not have been you proposing to my boyfriend just now.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” I laughed. “Just showing him the ocean’s finest selection of jewelry.”

“Oh yeah?” Dean squatted down to join us. “And what did Mr. Angel pick out, hmm? Lemme guess, wing bangles? Those would actually be pretty cool…” He quietly added.

Sam snickered into the back of his hand, gracing his brother with an unseen teasing look.

I smiled up at Dean. “No bangles. Just a really cool-”

Beside me, Castiel stiffened. His eyes darted towards mine, and seeing the desperation there and how he hid his hand, I knew he wanted to keep the ring a secret.

“…Really cool shell,” I finished, grabbing a red limpet from our accumulated pile of beach goodies. “Thought it might make a neat ring bauble.”

Though a little uncertain, Dean thankfully bought it. “Alright, well if you dweebs are done playing dress-up, Sam and I are about ready for lunch.”

Perking up, I leapt to my feet. “I packed some snacks! Hope you like off-brand cookies and crackers!”

Castiel and I gathered up our loot and followed the Winchesters to the tables. The entire way, Castiel kept his hand hidden, and the instant he was in safe range to do so, slipped his ring into my bag. I tried my best to give him a silent look that conveyed, “I swear I’ll protect this precious piece of secret glass with my life.”

It turned out the off-brand foods weren’t bad at all. In fact, the strawberry wafer cookies I munched on were actually quite delectable, and the packs of crackers and wax-encased cheese I passed to my friends satisfied them as well. I caught Sam passing some of his peanut butter crackers to Wattson under the table, but it made the pup’s tail wag with wild abandon so I couldn’t complain.

Once he’d had his fill, Sam rose to his feet and walked along the water’s edge. Wattson was, as had become routine, right behind him. Though diminutive, the puppy stood up well against the waves, leaping and smashing his paws into the water whenever it rolled by. Castiel was next to leave, resuming his earlier cormorant stance to dry his wings in the sun.

I was so intent on watching each my friends enjoy themselves that I barely noticed when Dean stood up. His feet carried him over the sand directly towards Castiel, drawing him onwards like a magnet. It was obvious why: standing out in the sun like that, Castiel’s wings shone a brilliant shade of metallic blue, like an obsidian geode with shimmering sapphire depths.

Unbeknownst to the sunbathing angel, Dean crept up behind him. He stopped mere feet before Castiel, reared back somewhat, and basically pounced on him from behind. A very un-Castiel-like yelp erupted from the angel, his wings standing on end as he spun to see his attacker. He calmed upon noticing it was only his boyfriend clinging to his back. Said boyfriend was beside himself with laughter at Castiel’s reaction, barely managing to hang on and slipping somewhat until his feet hit the sand.

Stubbornly refusing to release Castiel from his hold, Dean instead plastered himself against the angel, muffling laughs into this shoulder.

Without even bothering to look back at Dean, Castiel asked, “Dean…what are you doing?”

“Honestly, I dunno,” Dean managed as he got himself together. “You just looked so damn pretty in the sunlight.” He nuzzled into Castiel’s shoulder blades, earning an amused hum and fond smile from the angel.

“Humans,” Castiel jokingly lamented, craning his neck to look behind him. “Even to this day, there are things I fail to understand about them.”

“Mmmmm but I’m _your_ human, soooo,” Dean’s muffled voice replied.

“Fair enough.”

Without warning, Castiel flared his wings back, catching Dean by surprise. The angel managed to spin around in Dean’s loosened hold so that they were facing each other, expertly maneuvering to wrap him up in his feathers. Though startled, Dean happily adjusted.

“Now what’re _you_ doing?” Dean playfully challenged.

“I’m not sure.” The faintest smirk ghosted over Castiel’s face. “Your freckles just looked so beautiful in the sunlight.”

Without waiting for one of Dean’s signature witty replies, Castiel leaned in and planted several smooches along his cheeks and nose. Dean couldn’t help but let a ticklish laugh slip out, but he didn’t appear bothered by it. For all I could tell, the rest of the world had evaporated away from his awareness, leaving only him and his angel.

Leaning over to snuggle into the feathers nearest him, Dean murmured, “Wanna cuddle on the beach?”

Oh wow. Yeah, Dean had definitely lost all awareness of his surroundings if he’d worked up the courage to issue that sappy request pointblank.

“That sounds delightful,” Castiel airily agreed.

The pair separated but joined hands as they strolled towards the shade of a low-hanging palm. They settled comfortably near the tree’s swooping, curved base, Castiel wrapping one of his wings around an extremely content Dean to pull him close. After getting cozy, they began talking at length about something; they had gotten far away enough that I could scarcely hear them over the waves. At the very least, I could tell that Castiel was doing most of the talking, and judging by the few words I could make out, he was telling a story to Dean.

My mind swirled with the possibilities, eventually settling on the idea of Castiel sharing all the wonders and insights he’d seen throughout his millennia of observing the world and universe at large. Heh, maybe he’d tell Dean about the time he nearly doomed the future of all life by almost stepping on that fish…

“They’re an odd pair, aren’t they?” Silvan mused, startling me out of my thoughts. I hadn’t even realized he’d been watching them too…

Once I’d settled, I pulled my gaze away from the otters. “Odd, but a perfect match.”

Silvan nodded, scooting closer across his bench to better converse. “The best pairs are the odd ones.”

A smile forced its way onto my face. I wholeheartedly agreed with Silvan; often the quirkiest pairs made the sweetest couples. As a matter of fact…

My eyes drifted towards Silvan. He was still sitting on his bench, his book folded in his lap as he curiously observed Dean and Castiel. He looked wistful, his smile undoubtedly fond but his eyes mysteriously misty. Though I’d momentarily grappled with whether to voice my thoughts, Silvan’s expression convinced me.

Clearing my throat and staring at my feet, I casually asked, “Speaking of odd couples, have you…given any thought to last night?”

For a moment Silvan didn’t know what I was talking about, but I glanced up to catch the moment his face softened in recognition. “I…yes, I have thought about it.”

Hope sparked somewhere in my chest. “And…?”

“And…I’m not sure what to think.”

His gaze had turned pensive, gazing sightlessly over the ocean’s horizon. The mist in his oaken eyes now followed the crests of the waves, fluctuating but definite.

“I’m not sure of my feelings,” Silvan divulged with a heavy sigh. “You may have noticed, but I’m a bit of a perfectionist. I don’t like discussing what I think or feel without having thought it through fully.”

“I get that,” I quietly agreed. “Kinda describes my entire thought process, actually.”

A small hum of laughter briefly filled Silvan’s face with joy, but it dissipated as quickly as the surf on the sand. “But, if I’m honest…your insights have truth to them.”

My eyebrows perked up, but I tried my hardest not to look surprised.

“Danny and I have a long history,” Silvan divulged when I remained silent. “We sort of grew up together, but he was usually with his family so he could take care of his siblings. It’s strange, but our roles have switched over the years; now I’m the one taking care of my family and he’s the one off doing whatever he wants.”

I tasted the slightest tang of resentment at the tail-end of that. Before I could decide whether or not it would be a good idea to pry into it, Silvan continued.

“Believe it or not, when we reached our teens, I was the party kid at first. Danny sort of followed along and ended up overtaking me at some point.” He ran a nervous hand over his head. “I may have been a bad influence. But the point is, even after I sobered up and took responsibility, Danny never really grew out of it. I can’t say that’s all my fault.”

“Yeah,” I quietly agreed. “I can’t imagine Danny any other way.”

An abrupt, affectionate hum rumbled in Silvan’s chest. “I couldn’t either. Danny is…Danny.” The warm smile slipped off his face as that sentiment hung in the air. He hesitated, but admitted, “I am fond of Danny, for the record. For such a spontaneous person, he’s been a well of consistency in my life. And those feelings have been here for long enough that…”

A heavy sigh escaped Silvan. He pinched the bridge of his nose, watching the ocean as though it could carry him away from all his woes.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said, though it sounded like it very much _did_ matter. “I admire Danny for many reasons, but he will never understand.”

As for what exactly he wouldn’t understand, Silvan left unsaid. Work? Family? Responsibility? All three at once and possibly more?

Jeez. And I thought Dean and Castiel’s emotional baggage made for burdensome matchmaking.

At a loss for what to say, I folded my hands in my lap and joined Silvan in staring longingly at the ocean. I knew for a fact that both Silvan and Danny liked each other, but this unresolved issue was a brick wall preventing either from doing anything about it. As much as I would’ve loved to concoct a matchmaking scheme a la Noordam, I didn’t have enough background about either party to do so effectively. The only way to resolve this was…

Effective, healthy communication. That was key to every relationship, right? Heck, Dean and Castiel had already shown that earlier in the trip when they rectified their miscommunication conundrum. The question was, how to get them to communicate?

Danny’s words from last night, nearly forgotten, echoed to life in my head. _“Honestly, I thought all this had been lost on him. This proves there may be hope for him yet…”_

“Y-you know,” I impulsively began. “Danny…kind of overheard our chat last night.”

Shock briefly drew Silvan taut, but he composed himself with practiced elegance. “Ah…what makes you say that?”

“He talked to me just before he left. Said something about how he thought all this had been lost on you and that there may be hope for you yet…” As a bashful afterthought, I added, “And he commended me for trying to convince you to woo him.”

A different, softer sort of shock gripped Silvan then. His shoulders rose in surprise, but just as quickly untensed in apparent relief. “So you’re saying…even though he heard us, he was okay with it?”

“More than okay, I think,” I said, unable to help let a teasing tone slip in. “Looked downright cheerful, actually.”

The slightest blush rose to Silvan’s dark cheeks. He returned to looking at the ocean, but this time, it was with a look of rekindled anticipation.

“I’ll…talk to him,” Silvan decided, mostly talking to himself. “Yes, I will talk to him. I’ll…” He trailed off, only then remembering the book in his lap and fumbling it closed. He abruptly stood up and rummaged through his bag, retrieving his phone and furiously tapping out a message…then worriedly deleting it, starting over, and deleting it again. I watched this cycle for a few minutes before he took off down the beach, still typing and retyping messages he’d never send as he strolled the water’s edge.

_Matchmaking mission successful,_ I triumphantly thought, drawing lopsided hearts in the sand with my toes.

For a while I contented myself by rubbing soothing, shapeless patterns into the warm sand. Every so often I’d glance up to check on the otters, and every time I saw them as close and content as ever.

At some point, Sam came up to me, Wattson on his heels, and invited me play chase with his puppy. Having long since recuperated, I hopped to my feet and dashed across the sand, calling to Wattson the whole way. The pup caught on fast, running behind me in ungainly bounds between the boundary of sea and land. Before long I was out of breath and Wattson easily surpassed me, showing off his energetic disposition.

The sun was hanging lower and lower in the sky by the minute, threatening to descend beyond the oceanic horizon and quench its light. Dominican sunsets were always so early compared to what I was used to, and I could already feel the first sways of budding tiredness behind my eyes.

In fact, most of us seemed to have reached that conclusion. When I checked on Dean and Castiel again, the former had fallen asleep on the latter’s shoulder. Castiel wasn’t the least bit bothered by this; as a matter of fact, he looked like he could doze off any minute if such a thing came naturally to him.

“You’re beginning to feel the afternoon sleepiness?” Silvan abruptly commented, sneaking up on us. “Foreigners often take naps around this time, they aren’t used to the time zone.”

“Yeah, you could say that,” I self-consciously agreed.

Silvan looked down at his phone, which he still held tightly. “There’s still an hour and a half before sunset, but it would be best not to dawdle. I’m planning to cook the Mahi tonight, and that will take a while to prepare…”

Despite the snacks I’d consumed less than an hour ago, my stomach gurgled ever so slightly at the thought of fresh Mahi. “Okay yeah, we need to get going right now then.”

Chuckling, Silvan teased, “Someone’s hungry for seafood.”

“I just really like Mahi!” I defended, but Silvan waved it off and began gathering his stuff from the picnic table.

Sam and I followed suit, slipping on shoes and coverups and ensuring nothing was missing from our bags. I thought to make sure Dean and Castiel were getting a move on, but neither one had so much as shifted from their position. Castiel’s head was turned towards us, and when he locked eyes with me, I motioned to the bags and nodded, hoping he would understand.

Thankfully, he did. He leaned over into the half-cocoon of his feathers and murmured something to his slumbering companion, gently shaking the wing holding Dean. Dean stirred after a few shakes, blearily raising his head and smiling when he saw who he was leaning against. The pair exchanged a few more quiet words, and then Castiel helped Dean to his feet, still offering his shoulder to lean on as he steered the sleepy hunter towards the tables.

Packing up was a swift process, and before long we set out on the trail towards the car. Though Dean had come to senses somewhat, Castiel still kept a wing protectively draped around him to ensure he didn’t stumble or fall in his sleep-weakened state. Even Wattson had caught the nap bug, gladly allowing Sam to carry him in his arms.

As with before, Silvan led the group, only now all his attention was focused on the glinting screen of his phone. For a moment I wondered if he’d managed to send a text yet, but the way he kept tapping, re-tapping, and anxiously looking away from his phone to think confirmed he still hadn’t managed it.

By the time we reached the trail’s peak, Silvan seemed to have given up. Slipping his phone back into his bag, he unlocked the jeep and took his place in the driver’s seat. Sam took one look at his exhausted brother and wordlessly volunteered to take the front seat, leaving the backseat for him and his angel.

…And me. For the record, I ended up somewhat smushed against the door while the two of them snuggled up together on their own side, still somehow managing to take up three-fourths of the backseat. But if that was what it took for me not to have to sit in the middle seat, so be it.

I didn’t let myself surrender to the contagious sleepy mood; I wasn’t about to risk carsickness by closing my eyes on the chaotic roads. Even so, I allowed my mind to wander peacefully, cataloguing the oceanic, beachcombing, and matchmaking triumphs of the day.

Upon arriving back at the Villa (and being startled out of any sleepiness we may have had by Eve and Jack’s deafening welcome), everyone set off towards their own respective spaces to settle back in. I offered up my share of Batibou’s spoils to Castiel, subtly slipping the ring along with them. Sam took a dozing Wattson upstairs, presumably to let him rest, and Dean wasted no time in starfishing out on the hammock to resume his nap.

The prospect of Mahi was still fresh on my mind, and left with nothing else to do, I followed Silvan into the kitchen. He only noticed my presence once he’d taken the slabs of fish from the fridge so they could thaw.

Setting the fish down on the counter, Silvan commented, “You really are excited about this Mahi, ah?”

“Yeah,” I admitted. “Makes me nostalgic for living on the ocean. This nice couple once let us on their fishing yacht and helped us catch some Mahi for ourselves. Best dang fish I’ve ever had…”

Grinning and unwrapping the Mahi from its packaging, Silvan apologized, “I’m afraid you will have to wait a while to eat any. It will take a while to defrost.”

“Eh, I’ll live,” I dismissed.

In an effort to suppress my ravenous appetite for tropical fish, I gathered up my D&D books and notes and spread them out on the kitchen table. I passed the next thirty minutes by adding the finishing touches to my campaign, all the while stealing longing glances at the pinkish fish slowly melting across the room.

No sooner had I finished outlining details for a battle than Silvan returned to the kitchen. He poked and prodded at the Mahi, nodding in satisfaction at its texture.

“The wait is over!” he announced. “…The first part, anyway. I still have to prepare it.”

I was half-tempted to overdramatically groan in hunger, but I didn’t want put Silvan under any pressure. Fighting my appetite, I wrote down a few more thoughts in my notes, occasionally peering up to watch Silvan’s progress.

It only then occurred to me just how much work he’d put into preparing food for us during this entire trip. A knot of guilt clogged in my gut; when I lived on the boat, I’d always pitched in to help with cooking. It just didn’t feel right to be sitting there doing nothing, certainly not with how much Silvan had done for us thus far.

Spurred by restless, I hopped up from the table to join Silvan by the counter. He was delicately cutting the skin from the meat and paused in surprise when he noticed me.

“You, uh,” I cleared my throat, “need any help? I feel bad about you having to do all this on your own.”

At first, Silvan just laughed and shook his head. “It’s not a problem. I enjoy making food, and it’s part of my job anyways. But, if you want to help, I won’t say no. You know anything about deboning fish?”

“A little. I helped filet fish a few times when I was younger, but it’s been a while…”

“That’s alright, you can just take the small bones out.”

And that’s exactly what I did. Er, tried to do. Fish bones were sharp little things prone to shatter or break, and under my clumsy hands, they ended up making quite a mess. Still, with some guidance from Silvan, I managed my portion of the skeleton, leaving us with two boneless, smooth pieces of fish begging to be cooked.

Just as Silvan was lighting the stovetop, a distant rumbling echoed through the open windows. As it drew nearer, I recognized it as bassy music. Jack and Eve began barking and howling up a storm before long, and a familiar car puttered down the Villa’s driveway.

Silvan froze, staring out the window. He wordlessly lowered the pan he’d been holding and shut off the burner.

Seeing an opportunity, I playfully nudged him with my elbow. He didn’t budge, stock still with fearful, glazed eyes. Only then did it occur to me that he might be terrified at the prospect of this visitor. After all, he had endlessly second-guessed himself when attempting to text him…

“If he asks where I am, tell him I’m out,” Silvan tersely requested, spinning on his heel and speed-walking out of the kitchen.

Dumbfounded, I gathered myself and followed him outside just in time to see him retreating downstairs. Eve and Jack’s chorus grew louder and louder, announcing Danny’s timely entrance through the Villa’s gate.

He looked about briefly before fixating on me. “You seen Silvan?”

Mustering my courage, I lied, “He’s…out. Don’t know where.”

Danny raised an eyebrow, and I couldn’t tell whether or not he believed me. It didn’t end up mattering, since Danny spotted Silvan just before he ducked into the underbrush surrounding the Villa’s yard, bound for the seashore.

“There he is,” Danny chuckled. “Looks like he’s going for a dip. He should know better than to swim alone.”

Before I could make so much as a feeble attempt to stop him, Danny traipsed downstairs and followed suit, crossing the yard and eliciting more ear-splitting complaints from the guard dogs.

Great. Silvan had given me one task, and I’d failed it.

Though temporarily stuck in place by worry and uncertainty, I followed my instincts and went after them, descending into the dim basement. I half-expected to find something sinister or secret there, but there was little to see aside from a washing machine, bed, and a closet of miscellaneous dog food and lawn care tools.

Following the sound of the barking, I emerged through an open door into the Villa’s yard. Delicious, fruity and flowery scents wafted from the encompassing garden, but I couldn’t let them distract me. I had to rectify this potential disaster before it could even happen.

Dense underbrush blocked the path to the beach from my angle of approach, so I ended up batting away ferns and untangling branches from my hair for much of the way down. It slowed my progress considerably, and by the time I made it onto the actual path, I’d lost sight of both Danny and Silvan.

As quickly yet carefully as I could, I dashed down the slope towards the oceanside, kicking loose pebbles that rolled and clacked down the hard earth. I barely managed to screech to a halt before tumbling into a mound of overgrown stone at the very edge of the peninsula. Crouching down behind the wind-beaten edges of the protrusion, I spotted Danny chasing after Silvan along the peninsula’s trail.

Silvan seemed none the wiser to his friend’s presence, keeping his head low and maintaining a firm resolve against the battering of the wind. The tide was high, massive crests of foamy blue lurching and crashing on the farthest outcroppings of land. The lowering sun cast an eerie dimness over the landscape, accentuating the craggy shadows cast by the peninsula’s highest peaks.

“Silvan!”

Danny’s shout rivalled the wind in volume, and its recipient certainly heard. Silvan tensed, unwillingly turning around to face Danny. With the sea’s surf at his back, he gave off the energy of a chaotic ocean god, though fear was scrawled into his face.

Heaving a sigh that would have made the ocean’s swells jealous, Silvan pulled himself back up the trail. He met Danny halfway, the two stopping at a low point in the landscape that was somewhat sheltered from the wind. I briefly considered darting out from my hiding spot to intervene, but I didn’t know what I could do or say, or if it was even my place to do anything at all.

“What…brings you here?” Silvan asked, preferring to observe the rocks below rather than Danny’s bright expression.

“I was going to text you earlier, but I kept seeing your little typing bubble appearing and disappearing. Thought you were writing a novel.” 

Danny laughed heartily, his voice carrying easily over the breeze. An aborted smile came to Silvan’s face, but he didn’t let it show, forcing a professional look instead.

“I figured it would be easier to talk in person,” Danny clarified. “Were you going to finally admit that you were the one who deflated my football in primary school? Or that you really are jealous of my hair?”

Again, Silvan reflexively smiled, but he suppressed it. “No. I wanted to clarify some things.”

That dulled the edge of Danny’s humorous demeanor. He took a step back, rolling his shoulders and adopting a more casual tone. “Okay…what?”

Taking a deep breath of salty air, Silvan declared, “I work a lot because it’s important to me. I know you make fun of it and say it’s a problem, but it’s true.”

The silence that followed only lasted a few seconds before Danny released a guttural laugh heavenward. Silvan drew back, displeased by the reaction.

“Your problem isn’t that you work,” Danny replied. “Your problem is that you _over_ work. I see how it makes you stressed, that’s what I’ve been trying to help with.”

Silvan placated himself with another long breath. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate that. I enjoy having you around, but I have to work.”

“Not as much as you do!” Danny scoffed, leisurely leaning against the edge of their outcropping. “Really, you do need a break. These are stressful times, and your guests wouldn’t mind you being gone for a while, I guarantee it.”

An agitated twitch attacked the edges of Silvan’s face. “That isn’t…I can’t do that. I have a job here.”

“So do I! But you don’t see me being so anal about it.”

The twitch returned, stronger this time. “Maybe you should be. You have responsibilities too.”

“Maybe,” Danny lightly agreed. “But then again, who would swoop in to save your ass from the hell of adulting, eh?”

Though Danny had obviously meant it as a joke, it only seemed to annoy Silvan further. “Ironic, since you’re the one who can’t to seem to adult properly on his own.”

Any lightheartedness in Danny’s frame slipped away. He was colored with surprise, and he kicked off his perch to stand up again.

“I…was just kidding,” Danny countered weakly. “I’m always kidding. You know that, right?”

“That’s exactly the problem,” Silvan confirmed, annoyance boiling over into something more deadly. “Kidding. You don’t adult, you kid. That’s all you ever seem to do. You have the fun job of tubing down a river every day, and you can’t even stay committed to that!”

Danny shrank back. “What are you getting at? Are you saying you don’t want me around?”

“Of course I want you around!” Silvan exclaimed. “I just…don’t want you messing up my job!”

Several tense beats passed. Only in the relative peace of the wind and waves did I realize my heart was racing. This was not good…

“What happened to you?” Danny eventually asked, donning a serious tone I’d never heard from him before. “You used to shirk work all the time. Any day there wasn’t a guest in the Villa, you’d be out. You used to visit me all the time.”

Breathing shakily, Silvan tried to reign in his anger. “Listen, Danny…you have to understand. I’m doing this job for my family.”

Danny scoffed. “Yeah, I know. You took this job because your parents wanted you to make something of yourself. But you never became such a tightass about it until Maria.”

That strong emotion that had laid dormant for days surfaced in Silvan’s features. “You still aren’t understanding. Because of Maria, my family needs me to do this job now more than ever. I can’t…I can’t shirk that responsibility!” Looking down towards the stone beach below the peninsula’s cliff, he quietly added, “You wouldn’t know what it’s like. I know you never knew your father, and your mother was spread thin between you and all your siblings. You don’t have the same idea of family that I do.”

Actual anger peeked out among the other conflicting emotions on Danny’s face. “You really think that? My family has suffered because of Maria as well. I’m working to support them, too.”

“Well, judging by how many breaks you’ve been taking just to run off and see me, you sure don’t seem that devoted to their well-being!”

The anger in Danny’s expression grew. “I am working as hard as I have to and then some, Silvan. You don’t understand.”

“No, _you_ don’t understand!” Silvan was shouting now, causing me to shrink back behind my rock. “Your idea of hard work and my idea of hard work are completely different. I don’t see how you can possibly be taking even a minute off when your family needs you now more than ever!”

“I don’t see how you’re in any place to talk, seeing as you never even leave this Villa to see your family!”

That was when Silvan officially snapped. 

“I am the only one who can help them!” he yelled. “Before, I could run off with you and live out the leisurely island lifestyle, watch you sleep with people left and right while I drank myself silly and drifted between girlfriends, but things are different now!” Tears wet the corners of his eyes. “Andon is _gone_! He was the _only_ one bringing in support to my family, and now I’ve had to step up and try as hard as I can to take his place! _I don’t have a choice_!”

The ferocity of Silvan’s words hung in the air, more violent than the darkening waves surrounding us. The sheer emotion of it all hit me at full force, and I felt my chest clench as tightly as though I was standing in his place.

Danny was rendered just as speechless as me. All he could do was watch, astonished, as the tears rolled down Silvan’s face, their trails blown aside by what little wind could reach them.

Suppressing what I could only assume were sobs with shaky inhales through clenched teeth, Silvan angrily wiped his hand over his face, batting away the tears. All his grief seemed to compile itself anew, and then more than any time before I understood just what that unplaceable emotion he carried was: a deep-set bitterness.

And why wouldn’t Silvan be bitter? He’d had so much taken from him, not least of which was his own brother, and on top of that had to take on the entire weight of what Andon left behind. He’d had to go from “kidding” to “adulting” out of the blue, caught in the midst of a personal and national tragedy no less. No wonder work was so important to him…and no wonder he was so hurt by Danny’s derisive comments.

Neither one of them wanted to break the silence. Not that I blamed them; in either one of their shoes, I would have probably fainted from sheer social discomfort and tumbled down the cliff.

Eventually, Silvan heaved a shaky breath and slid down to sit on one of the overhang’s sheltered rocks. He buried his face in his hands, curling in on himself. In that moment, he really did give off the appearance of a scared, overwhelmed kid forced to grow up too fast.

At last, with a tense shuffling of his feet, Danny perched himself on a neighboring rock and rested his chin over his clasped fingers. He stared out at the ocean as it grew more turbulent with the advancing tide, all at once regretful and grasping for what to say.

“I’m sorry,” Danny muttered. Silvan didn’t move.

Realizing a much larger band-aid was needed, Danny tried again. “I…know losing Andon was hard on you. It was hard on me too, I get it. I didn’t…I didn’t realize that was why you…”

Silvan stirred only slightly, still keeping his face covered.

“It makes sense, I guess. In my family, I have so many brothers and sisters, and all of us that can work do. Since Maria, we’ve all been doing our part. But you…”

Danny glanced at Silvan, dismayed to see he was still hiding. Undeterred, he pressed on.

“You have all of that to deal with on your own. Our families aren’t as different as you might think, but…I think I was blind to the differences that do exist.”

That was enough to draw Silvan’s hands down his face somewhat. He peered out from the protection of his fingers, his eyes a teary mess.

“I have felt guilty about not working, you know? But the storm scared off the tourists, so business has been slow. I thought I could help you, because I know you’re working yourself too hard.” Danny’s shoulders sagged. “I didn’t know how much you were still hurting. I never meant to make it worse.”

Chancing another look at Silvan, Danny chuckled forlornly and removed his glasses, wiping at his face. “Dammit, now I’m crying…” He smiled through the few tears, absently twirling his glasses. “What I’m getting at, is…I understand, now. And I know you; you’re a perfectionist, and you hide any feelings that aren’t perfect. But…you do not have to go through this alone.”

Something that was a mix between a laugh and a sob escaped Silvan, muffled by the cage of his fingers. He wiped vigorously at his face, but upon dropping his hands, a smile had finally returned to it. 

“I…” he croaked, “didn’t mean to blow up on you. I just reached a breaking point.”

Danny waved a hand. “I’m just sorry I didn’t realize until now. Miscommunication, eh?”

_The bane of all relationships,_ I thought, recalling Dean and Castiel’s spat from earlier in the trip.

Nodding solemnly, Silvan reached up to dry his cheeks. “I didn’t know about your family situation. I’ve wanted to be with mine, but with all the work…” Sadness crept up, wetting his eyes once more. “It’s awful, but I’ve almost been avoiding them. Being around them reminds me of what is missing.”

Another shaky inhale and several more tears escaped Silvan. Scrambling to shove his glasses back on his face, Danny scooched off his rock towards him, not a hint of hesitation in his being as he put an arm around Silvan and tugged him to his side. Silvan exhaled gratefully, allowing more tears to fall and leaning towards his friend.

“Like I said, you don’t have to be alone,” Danny repeated.

“I…appreciate that,” came Silvan’s muffled reply. “I really have appreciated you being here to help me, but with all the responsibilities and stresses and-”

“Shh,” Danny shushed him. “I get it. I’m just glad it isn’t because you didn’t want me around.”

Chuckling glumly, Silvan nestled a little closer. “I do want you around; I _always_ want you around. I just feel bad that you were taking time away from your family to see me.”

“Hey, don’t worry about that. My family’s important to me, but you are too. If it weren’t for Maria, I’d…” Danny stopped, momentarily peering at the ocean. He seemed to be looking to it for answers, and it must have provided them as he nodded in satisfaction. “I’d spend most of my time with you.”

Though I could barely see it around Danny’s head, a real smile appeared on Silvan’s face. “I’d spend most all of my time with you, too.”

“You sure you wouldn’t get sick of me?”

Meeting Danny’s teasing grin with a gummy smile, Silvan replied, “Eh, I’ve been stuck with you for twenty years already, what’s a few more?”

That response pleased Danny to his core, and a beaming expression took over his face. Silvan reflected it, the pair still side-by-side and staring into each other’s souls. They simultaneously realized how close they were, shifting uncertainly and casting their eyes anywhere else.

_Oh god dang it, I lamented. This is literally the perfect moment. Just DO it, guys!_

Either Silvan had mind-reading abilities or reached the same conclusion as me, because he braced himself and looked back up at Danny.

“You know, you’re my best friend,” Silvan began, bashful but determined.

“Obviously,” was Danny’s cheeky reply.

Silvan paused to laugh, but stayed on track. “But you’re…more than that, to me. You’ve always been here, and you never fail to make me laugh when I need to, and…” Gathering himself, Silvan summed up, “I admire you.”

Though Danny hadn’t expected that, he was more than happy with it. “Huh…that’s funny, ‘cause I admire you an awful lot, too.”

“That’s good to hear.” Blushing and rubbing at the back of his neck, Silvan mustered up his courage. “I have been thinking—and I wasn’t certain with all this work nonsense—but now I know for sure that I feel…I feel…”

“Cut to the chase and kiss me, you nerd.”

Though stunned into silence, Silvan managed a wobbly smile and obliged. He took his time leaning in, no doubt trying to make the moment last, before finally sealing his lips over Danny’s. Danny savored it for a few seconds before reciprocating, pulling Silvan closer until he nearly slipped off his rock. Silvan buried his hand into the bundle of dreadlocks bobbing atop Danny’s head to stabilize himself, deepening the kiss and smiling uncontrollably.

Celebratory fireworks were practically going off in my head. This had turned from an absolute disaster of a confrontation into exactly what I’d been aiming for. The winggirl had struck again!

My work was done. Turning my back to the smooching pair, I crept towards the trail, only rising to my full height once I was safely obscured by foliage. There was an undeniable skip in my step as I traversed up the slope, and by the time I was back at the Villa I felt like nothing could pull me down.

It took just under ten minutes for Danny and Silvan to return from the peninsula. I was seated at the table finishing off my notes when they entered, hand in hand and happier than I’d ever seen them. Silvan started when he saw me watching them. I just glanced between him and his hand where it lay interlocked in Danny’s, giving him a knowing smile. He offered a grateful smile of his own, leading Danny further into the kitchen towards the stove.

The fish were still sitting out, thankfully untouched and ready to be cooked. I wondered if I should hop back up and resume helping, but quickly decided against it; Silvan had enlisted Danny’s assistance in preparing dinner. The former was busy prepping the stovetop and a pan, while the latter watched him fondly and held the fish at the ready.

I lingered for several minutes while I finalized my D&D campaign. All the while I stayed tuned in to what the two chefs across the room were up to. Between Danny retrieving various herbs and ingredients from around the kitchen and Silvan cooking the fish, I could hear them murmuring what must have been flirty jokes, followed by playful laughter. For such a recent change in their relationship dynamic, they sure had gotten comfortable with it quickly.

Leaving them to the excitement of their new relationship status, I packed up my papers and books and hauled them upstairs. I dumped them on my bed, knowing I’d likely be retrieving them before the day was over, and finally worked up the motivation to change out of my damp swimsuit and into dry clothes.

On my way out of my room, I spotted Castiel, also changed into his normal attire, exiting his nest-in-progress across the balcony. I leaped over to meet him, still riding my good mood.

“How goes the surprise?” I asked.

“Very well,” Castiel replied, glancing back at the doors. “I…think it may be nearing its completion, actually.”

I could almost feel my eyes light up. “Good! The sooner, the better. This trip won’t last forever.”

That reminder poked uncomfortably at my gut, hinting at some writhing concern in my awareness. My peppiness quickly put it to rest, however, and it settled without a fight.

“Would you like to see?” Castiel offered, motioning towards the closed doors.

Nodding enthusiastically, I converged on the doors before Castiel had the chance to open them for himself. The interior took my breath away: not a single flat surface remained undecorated, strewn with shells and coral of all shapes and colors in carefully arranged chaos. The lobster shell held a place of particular honor on one of the bookcase’s tallest shelves, the large palm fronds had been arranged around the bed to create a sheltered, bower-shaped tent, and plenty more feathers had been added to the bedding and bug nets. The rescued brittle star was safely in its aquarium on the bedside table, crawling over the top of its branch coral. A woven basket held a seat of honor between the two brown and green shells that had started this undertaking in the first place.

“Isn’t that Sam’s?” I asked, pointing at the basket. “He got it from the Carib territory the other day.”

“Yes, but…he let me borrow it. I intend to return it once this is all finished.”

Absently nodding, I stared lazily about the room, all the details clamoring for my attention. “Dean is going to lose his mind,” I breathed out, craning my head through the doorway to take in as much as I could.

“I hope he won’t find it… _too_ overwhelming,” Castiel fretted.

“It might shock him a little at first, but…he’s seen far weirder things in his line of work.”

“True,” Castiel exhaled, grateful for the reassurance. “Would you happen to know where he is?”

“Last I saw him, he was out cold in the hammock downstairs.”

Taking care to close the door, Castiel walked to the balcony’s farthest point, peering over its edge. I joined him, seeing Dean curled up soundly in the hammock’s soft fabric.

My gaze drifted towards the angel at my side. He had a look of pure adoration on his face, watching Dean sleep as though it gave him life. Even more than that, his stare was characterized by longing, and I knew what I had to do.

Nudging him with my elbow, I encouraged, “Got get ‘im, tiger.”

Though he didn’t recognize the phrase, he seemed to get the gist of it. He nodded and set off towards the stairs, descending them on light feet. I resumed watching over the railing, waiting to ensure Castiel would follow through. The angel tip-toed into sight before long, peering towards Dean’s napping spot and keeping his wings hunched down so as not to make a sound.

Dean didn’t stir, only releasing the gentlest of snores. Castiel fondly watched over him for a few moments, resolving to join him in the hammock. With the utmost care, the angel perched himself on the fabric’s farther edge, crawling closer until he could lay down beside his boyfriend. Dean must have been in an especially deep sleep, because he remained unconscious even when Castiel leaned closer to peck his lips to the tip of his nose.

A faint, drowsy grin did twitch onto Dean’s face, and he shuffled closer in his sleep. Castiel appeared content simply being beside him, humming and closing his eyes. He sent a flash of grace through his feathers and loosely draped one corporeal wing over Dean, letting the other hang off the side of the hammock and sway with its motion in the breeze.

Said breeze wooshed upwards towards my vantage point, brushing through my hair and tickling my scalp. I turned my attention to the ocean’s expanse, silently thanking it for the respite from Dominica’s hot air. The sun was well into setting by then, sinking through the sky’s molasses and painting it fitting shades of brown and orange. With this breathtaking view and two happy, reunited couples together below, I felt like I was floating on cloud nine.

I had a few minutes to enjoy the peaceful sunset, resting my elbows on the railing and soaking up the light while I still could. I jumped slightly when a towering figure sauntered up beside me, leaning on the railing and admiring the view. I silently accepted the presence, thankful for the companionship, but the peace was broken the instant he spoke up.

“You given it any more thought?” Sam asked, igniting a tension in my gut I’d all but forgotten about.

My stomach took a swan dive when I realized what he was talking about: I still had to reclaim my wish, and time was running dangerously short.

Anxiety prickled along my spine, shooting through my nerves. Just how long _did_ we have left?

“We…have less than a day left,” Sam reminded, sending my nervous system into overdrive. “Sometime tomorrow, our week will be up.”

I tried to form words, but they clogged in my throat. All at once, shame and fear mounted on my shoulders, the same that had afflicted me each time I’d procrastinated on an assignment for school until the night before. Except that this time, the stakes were far greater than my GPA.

“I…I can’t…” I managed, feeling my legs begin to shake. “I don’t know what to-”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Sam gently interrupted. He must have noticed how shaky I was getting, because he put a hand on my shoulder and gently guided me backwards to sit on a recliner. “Take a deep breath. I’m here.”

Harnessing the soft press of Sam’s hand on my shoulder and the rhythmic lullaby of the waves, I fought down the tide of rising anxiety as best as I could. It stayed crouched, claws kneading my insides as it waited to pounce back up, but for the moment I’d wrested control out of its clutches.

“…Okay,” Sam breathed out, removing his hand and sitting beside me. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to catch you off guard, I just-”

“No, it’s okay!” I swiftly denied. “We…I know we really need to do something about it, but…”

The shame weighed heavier on my shoulders. I took a calming breath to prevent it from feeding the fearful monster in my gut.

“I’ve been so scared that…” My voice diminished to a shameful whisper. “I’ve been ignoring it.”

Sam was silent at first, but sighed after a while. He didn’t sound outright disappointed; if anything, he sounded like he was commiserating with me. Yet the pessimistic side of my brain fixated on those tiny traces of letdown in his breath, hammering them into my awareness and making me feel worse.

Hoping I could remedy the situation and my state of mind, I blabbered, “I mean, w-we did help with the vines, and I helped Silvan and Danny get together earlier today, so, so that’s something, right?”

Any surprise Sam would have had at the news of the latest relationship in the Villa took a backseat to his more pressing concern. “That’s…something, but…I don’t know if that’s a big enough impact.”

My leg began bouncing out of my control once more, signaling an oncoming tidal wave of anxiety. My esophagus clogged with empty air. In my brain, a mantra of _failure, failure_ and _you let them down, you let them_ down rang loud and clear.

Anxiety took its chance then, leaping through my chest and rending it apart with its electrically-charged claws. Tears rose to my eyes without my consent and a choked sound lodged itself in my throat.

Sam said something, but I could barely hear him. I doubled over, trying to contain the beast wreaking havoc on my ribcage, but I only succeeded in concentrating the sensations into one place. My lungs fought to gasp in air, but my overriding need to stay quiet made sure they only got the bare minimum.

Time flowed in some direction; I couldn’t tell which. A storm of buried emotions was raging inside, screaming at me and my failure, procuring images of a possible future without the Winchesters in my life and dredging up horrific memories of the bladed words and actions tossed around way back home. Without my wish, that was all I had to run back to, and with added pressures of school and guilt I would collapse.

_Hurl yourself over the railing,_ a voice hissed from the darkest corner of my mind.

Those words shocked me back to the present, pulling me back out from the chaos of my inner world. My cheeks were wet with salty rivers, and erratic breaths pushed and pulled through my mouth. Someone was shaking me, a firm grip on my shoulder further jostling my awareness.

“[Y/N]?” Sam demanded, voice overcome with worry. “Are you with me? It’s okay, I promise you’re okay, please…”

That was enough to somewhat dull the ache in my chest, just enough that I could take a few lungfuls of air to slow everything down. I was still a trembling, crying mess, but at least I wasn’t trapped in my head.

Though Sam stopped shaking me, he didn’t remove his hand. “There you go…it’s alright, I promise. I’m so sorry…”

The guilt surged again, but my body was too exhausted to react to it further. I took an unsteady gulp of air and stammered, “N-no, I’m, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have i-ignored it. I’m just so scared to, to lose-”

A despondent cry heaved unbidden in my lungs, stopping my words. Sam gripped my shoulder a little tighter, and using that to ground me, I let my body still until all I felt were lingering chills.

Swallowing all the emotion I could, I quietly admitted, “I can’t lose this wish, and I can’t lose you guys. B-but it was selfish, I only made it for myself and I can’t even think of a way to help anyone else with it, and all I ever seem to do is bring you guys trouble anyways so maybe you’d be better off without me, but I know I won’t be able to handle my life without you and-”

“Slow down,” Sam soothed. “You need to keep taking deep breaths.”

Knowing he was right, I focused on my breathing and sucked up all the oxygen I could.

Jeez. Amazing how fast anxiety can rocket from zero to a hundred, huh?

Patiently waiting until I’d collected myself a bit more, Sam affirmed, “We would not be better off without you, and we’re not going to leave you.”

Though a chorus of learned disbelief rang in my head, I nodded, taking all the comfort I could.

“We’ll find a way to fix this,” Sam said, quieter this time. “We can still figure something out.”

“It was my responsibility,” I pointed out miserably. “And I failed. All of this is my fault anyways…” I shut my eyes. “I never should have made this wish in the first place.”

Either Sam was too shocked to respond or didn’t know what to say.

“I mean I, I could have wished for world peace or an end to natural disasters or something, but no…all I could think of was how to help myself. Wishing to escape was just…another example of me being a coward, and I can’t even change that now. I’m still running from my problems.”

For a few moments, the only sensations I felt were the lingering breeze and sounds of crashing waves. I only dared to leave the dark safety of my eyelids when Sam spoke again.

“You know…doing something to look after yourself isn’t a bad thing. That sounds like it would obvious, but sometimes we need a reminder of that. Your wish wasn’t selfish; it may have started as something meant just to help you out of a bad situation, but it grew beyond that. It’s done a lot of good for us, too.” He held up a finger. “And before you try to argue it’s been more trouble to us than it’s worth, take one look at Dean and Cas and _then_ try to tell me otherwise.”

Though I couldn’t literally see the pair from where I sat, I knew they were still resting together in the hammock. I also knew that Sam was right; despite the interruptions I brought to their lives, they likely wouldn’t have that bit of happiness without my interference, and that’s to say nothing of the literal apocalypses I helped them avert with my foresight.

“I’ve learned a lot of stuff since I’ve been hunting.” Sam looked out over the ocean once more, eyes clouded with memory. “It took me a long time to realize it, but sometimes to help other people…you have to do something, however small, to help yourself first; otherwise, you’re no good to them.” He huffed. “Sometimes I still forget that.”

Despite myself, I smiled a little. “That’s the Winchester way, ain’t it?”

“Guess you picked that up from us,” Sam admitted. “We’re not exactly the best influence.”

“I had plenty of repression and self-sacrifice in me waaaay before I met you guys. I may not have been raised a hunter, but I was definitely raised to be an anxious mess.”

That was enough to elicit a small laugh from Sam, which lifted my spirits somewhat. My guilt still refused to abate, though.

“I’m just…sorry,” I sighed. “You guys shouldn’t have to deal with all this.”

Shaking his head, Sam countered, “Don’t blame yourself. We have too much self-blame in this family as it is.”

The unspoken implication of _you’re a part of this family, too_ banished any lingering discomfort in my chest. I’d always thought of the Winchesters as family, but to hear it in a moment like this…it was exactly what I needed.

“You’re right,” I agreed. “There’s no time for blame. We still have to figure out what to do.”

Confident that I was capable of discussing the matter, Sam offered, “Like we said before, there’s plenty of chances to make a difference on this island, but I still don’t know how to tie your wish into that. We already helped with the vines once, but…”

We both knew a little weed whacking—er, swiping—wouldn’t be enough to justify me keeping my wish. How in the multiverse was I supposed to use my wish to make a difference if I couldn’t even use the power it granted in the first place? The only way I could think of to achieve that would be to take advantage of something I’d gained through my wish and still had access to.

Like, say…my surrogate family.

“You guys,” I breathed out. “You’re the ones who can make a difference.”

Sam swiveled towards me in surprise.

“If it weren’t for my wish, none of you would even be here! So if you could do something here that would have a big enough positive effect…”

“…Then your wish will be what caused it,” Sam caught on. “I get what you’re saying, but what exactly are we supposed to do? We’re just…people.”

I couldn’t help but gape at him. “People who have saved the world multiple times over! People who have enough skill to face the greatest horrors of their world, including but not limited to _literal hell_ , and who still keep fighting every single day simply because it’s what’s right! You guys are extraordinary, especially by my world’s standards. Matter of fact, the people who watch your show, myself included, are inspired by your bravery and hardships on a daily basis.”

Flushing slightly under all the praise, Sam quietly dismissed, “C’mon, that’s…that can’t be-”

I didn’t dare let him finish. “It’s true! Your fight to cope with Hallucifer helped me fight my anxiety. Dean’s struggles with emotions have bettered the way I deal with mine. And where do I even start with Cas, he…”

At the mention of that name, I actually slapped my palm against my forehead.

“ _Cas!_ ” I exclaimed. “Of course! He’s a literal angel, just think of the things he could do here!”

“Yeah,” Sam brightened. “As long as we keep a low profile and don’t make the multiversal anomaly any worse, his powers could really come in handy.”

“My thoughts exactly.” Just as the sun made its final farewell over the horizon, I captured the last of its light in a beaming smile. My good mood had finally returned.

For the next several minutes, Sam and I built the framework of a game plan. After some deliberation, we identified three of the areas that needed the most attention on the island: communication, housing, and agriculture. Before we could get into the nitty gritty of it, however, Danny called us to dinner.

"Soup's on!" He stopped, rephrasing, "Er, mahi's on!"

Well I sure didn’t need to be hecking told twice. I bolted up from my seat, leaving a bewildered Sam in my wake as I ran headlong down the stairs. For all I was concerned, not a single force in the universe could keep me from getting to that fish as soon as possible.

…Except, apparently, for my one weakness: Destiel.

As I passed them in the hammock, I paused when I noticed Dean shifting and grunting sleepily. His eyes opened slowly, a gooey smile breaking out on his face when he saw who was lying next to him.

“Well hey there, angel,” he muttered in a sleep-worn voice. “Fancy meeting you here.”

Returning the smile full-force, Castiel warmly replied, “Hello, human. I figured you could use the company.”

“’Preciate it.” Dean swung himself into a sitting position, though he held Castiel’s wing over him like a blanket. “Easier to sleep in your feathers than anywhere else.”

To my complete and utter amazement, Castiel actually _squirmed_ with giddiness for a brief moment, swinging his wing around to hold Dean tighter. He sat up as well, pulling Dean towards him until their foreheads met. They stayed like that for a while, lingering in their post-sleep haze and unaware of the world around them.

Though I hated to break up the moment, I knew they’d stay like this for a ridiculously long time if I let them. I cleared my throat, just loud enough for them to hear, and they startled apart.

“Dinner’s ready,” I informed them, stifling a snicker and resuming my mahi pilgrimage.

Praise the deities of delicious seafood, the mahi awaited me at the end of my journey, deliciously seared and seasoned on a plate at the table. I wasted no time in cutting a hearty portion for my plate, though I had enough thought to wait until everyone arrived to begin eating.

For once, Silvan didn’t have much to say to us; he seemed a little wrapped up in Danny. The two of them sat smushed together at the head of the table, quietly joking and laughing between themselves as they ate. Sam, who had brought Wattson downstairs with him, sat beside me so we could discuss our plans further. We filled Dean and Castiel in as best as we could, but our planning session quickly took a backseat to how _goddamn miraculous the taste of that mahi was._

From the first bite, the taste awoke vivid memories in me. I could almost feel the soft, Bahamian sand between my toes, taste the unpleasant yet nostalgic tang of salt in my mouth, and feel those same sentiments of limitless possibility and exploration granted by the depths of tropical forests.

“My utmost compliments to the chef,” I gushed, bowing theatrically towards Silvan.

“Chefs, actually,” Silvan corrected, trapping a chortling Danny in a headlock and smushing the both of them farther together. Danny didn’t seem to mind this at all, laughing harder and smooching along Silvan’s arm until he too was a giggling mess.

God. It was _so_ great to see them so happy.

More than that, it was great to see everyone so happy. Silvan and Danny had worked out their differences, Dean and Castiel were as close ever and sharing bits of fish from the same plate, and Sam had Wattson in his lap, sneaking scraps of his meal under the table for the puppy to enjoy. Merely the sight of them seated around the table made the onslaught of anxiety from earlier feel a world away.

…Huh. Odd for me to say that, considering that I was in my own world rather than another. If anything, that proved to me that my wish did serve a purpose, both to me and to my friends. That realization made me all the more determined to apply this good fortune as far and wide as I could.

I’d scarcely taken the last bite of my mahi before Danny dramatically stood up from his chair, sending it screeching across the floor. He pulled a startled Silvan up by the hand, laughing and tugging him outside. Though Silvan initially protested, he ended up going along easily when he saw where he was being taken: the pool.

Though I only caught a glimpse of the water spraying up, I certainly heard the splash and subsequent laughs and sputters. Still feeling bad about not doing more to help, I made sure to grab Danny and Silvan’s plates on my way to the sink to wash mine; clearly, they weren’t coming back anytime soon.

Thankfully, the other three volunteered their assistance with washing and drying. We were already getting a head start on helping to make a difference, however small.

Once the last piece of silverware had been scrubbed spotless, I glanced back at the table. It didn’t feel right to end the night yet…I was still alight with happiness and as energized as ever despite it being dark.

I turned back to my companions, raised an eyebrow, and asked a simple question: “D&D?”

They all simultaneously nodded their heads. What should have been a simple task of retrieving our respective papers turned into an all-out race as everyone ran for their rooms. Castiel was there and back first by default since he could teleport, but barring the use of unfair angelic abilities, Sam and Wattson won. I just couldn’t hope to keep up with their athleticism, and it had taken Dean a while to even locate his character sheet.

Competition forgotten, our group congregated at the kitchen table, me with my books and notes and my friends with their papers. The excitement that had been sparking within me all night only grew brighter at the prospect of how this campaign would go.

“Last time on Team Free Will plays D&D,” I began, “Our heroes met Jody, made it to Winchester, drank some mead, and started working on a plan. The beds in Trailhome Tavern are pretty comfy, so you all slept well…but you’re all woken up in the ripe hours of the morning by Jody rapping on your doors.”

“Five more minutes,” Dean fake-whined.

Smiling and rolling his eyes, Castiel volunteered, “Since Cassius is with him, he makes sure Marlow gets up in a timely manner.”

Sam’s eyes went wide. “Oh, so Marlow and Cassius did end up spending the night together, huh? Hmm. Innnnteresting.”

“Shut it, Andy,” Dean bit back. “Don’t you have a hangover?”

“Yep,” I confirmed, giving Sam a look of sympathy. “Andus is sporting a nasty headache, and Jody knocking on his door only makes it worse. You’re gonna be at a slight disadvantage for most of the morning.”

Sighing in defeat, Sam conceded, “Alright, guess Andus deserves it for not listening to Jody.” He smirked. “Still isn’t gonna stop him from teasing the hell out of his brother and birdfriend, though.” Something suddenly occurred to him. “Wait, timeout. If Cas’s character is a bird and Dean’s is a human…does that make this some weird form of bestiality, or…?”

Dean held up a finger. “The correct term in this case would be interspecies relationship, Sam,” he educated. “Cas’s character is anthropomorphic and fully capable of giving consent.”

Oh my god. Dean totally _was_ a furry. I’d always wondered…

…Or, would the term be “feathery,” in this case?

Still dubious, Sam probed, “Since when have you been the expert on…um, interspecies relationships?”

Dean just let his eyes dramatically drift towards Castiel, who sat to his side. “Uh, since I’ve been in one?”

Sam quickly relented after that. “…Okay, fair enough.”

With that debate settled, I got back to the story. “So, once you’re all up and ready, you meet Jody downstairs in the tavern’s main room. She’s all suited up in protective leather clothing and has her bow and arrows strapped to her back. She looks pretty freakin’ prepared. And you all are…?”

Taking the hint, Sam described, “Andus prepared as best as he could with his headache…” He weakly held up a hand and wiggled his fingers. “Uh, he’s got…his magic?”

“Good enough. How about the lovebirds?”

“Cassius has his sword,” Castiel said. “Although he didn’t have nearly as much time to preen his feathers as he would have liked.”

“And Marlow’s got his daggers and rogue cloak,” Dean added. “He is fired up to get Bobby back!”

“Great!” I nodded my approval. “Without much preamble, Jody gathers you all in front of the bar. It’s so early that the tavern hasn’t even opened yet, so it’s just you four and the Hardvales. Ellen’s taking stock of supplies while Jo washes some dishes behind the counter. Jody tries to be quiet so they won’t overhear her when she asks, ‘Now, what’re we supposed to do about Cassius? Won’t the Aerol’uck recognize him?’”

“Yes, they would,” Castiel solemnly confirmed. “He could attempt to sneak in and remain hidden if the others can cause a distraction, but it will be risky…”

“Marlow doesn’t want Cassius putting himself at risk,” Dean decided. “He kinda likes to have the whole team stick together, you know? Is there some way we could disguise him? Make him look like a different bird, or…?”

“Before any of you can propose a solution, you hear Jo mutter a sudden ‘oh!’ and drop something in the sink. She looks over at you, holds up a finger, and tells you to ‘wait just a second’ before running off into the supply room.”

Eyebrows rose all around the table. I let them stew in confusion for a few moments.

“Considerably longer than a second later, Jo returns with a glass vial full of a deep blue liquid. She proudly extends it towards Cassius and says, ‘try this. It’s a transmogrification potion. It was in the supplies Bobby sent…just be careful, ‘cause it only lasts for half an hour.”

“…So much for being quiet,” Sam lamented. “Uh, how much of that did Jo hear?”

“Though she’s a little guilty to admit it, Jo eventually chirps, ‘I, uh…might have eavesdropped on your conversation last night. It sounded like you had some big grand adventure planned, and…’ Ellen interrupts her, declaring, ‘And you are not going along with them, Joabelle.’ Jo is, predictably, not pleased with that.”

Troubled, Dean wondered aloud, “My gut instinct agrees with Ellen, but…we really could use all the help we could get. How prepared would Jo be for something like this?”

“Why don’t you roll for insight and find out?”

Dean rolled…a friggin’ one. Oof, bad luck to start the session off.

“You don’t get a bit of insight into her just from looking,” I supplied. “Like, at all. You probably wouldn’t even be able to tell she was a half-dwarf if I hadn’t told you earlier.”

Frowning at his die, Dean conceded, “Alright then, I’m siding with Ellen. No sense in putting someone else at risk on this mission.”

Some part of me couldn’t help but wonder if Dean’s actual experiences with Jo influenced that decision or not. I didn’t dare speak up about it.

“Jo sure ain’t happy, but she stays put,” I relayed. “Still, she gave you the potion, so…that’s something, right?”

“What exactly is this potion intended to do?” Castiel thought to ask.

Pushing the die towards him, I encouraged, “Roll for arcana to see what you know about it.”

The icosahedron bounced across the table, landing on a twelve.

“You know this is an example of extremely potent transformation magic. From the way it fizzles slightly, you also detect a hint of illusion magic…but beyond that, you’re not sure.”

Weighing his options, Castiel made a face that screamed, “screw it,” before announcing, “Cassius opens the vial and drinks all of its contents.”

Though his tablemates were alarmed by the seemingly rash action, I was beside myself with delight. This was exactly what I’d been hoping for.

“Okay, okay,” I gathered myself. “You drink the potion. It tastes…like an extremely salty, liquefied piece of Airhead candy. Before you’ve even downed half of it, you can feel an uncomfortable, tingly itch under your feathers, and then, poof! A cloud of blue smoke envelops you, and once it dissipates…you look like a human version of yourself!”

Dean’s eyes widened. “…Wow, okay. If Marlow wasn’t smitten before, he sure as hell is now.”

Castiel blushed, shifting in his chair. “Cassius isn’t entirely comfortable in this form, but he accepts it for the sake of the mission. And if Marlow enjoys it, then…that is an added benefit, I suppose.”

“Is there a flirtation check?” Dean brazenly asked.

Blinking in surprise, I answered, “Uh…no, there isn’t. But a charisma check could act as a substitute.”

Without bothering to wait for my go-ahead, Dean shook and tossed the dice across the table. With his stat boosts, he scored an eighteen.

Smirking triumphantly, Dean turned all his attention to the angel beside him. “Your feathers are nice, but I gotta say…I like seein’ what’s under ‘em.”

“Oh my _god_ ,” Sam groaned, burying his face in his hands.

Even if Dean hadn’t gotten such a high roll, Castiel’s flustered expression alone would have convinced me to give him points. As it was, I let Dean’s charismatic prowess speak for itself.

Once he’d recovered, Castiel said, “My brethren shouldn’t recognize me like this. Although…I will miss flying, for the time being.”

“Jody tells you not to worry,” I encouraged. “And you should be confident, really. You know the layout of this place.”

Flipping open to another page of my guidebook, I pulled a rudimentary map out, folded it up, and slid it across the table to Castiel. He eyed it curiously, unfolding it and reviewing its contents.

“Don’t let the other players see it,” I instructed. “That’s a map based on Cassius’s memories of the Aerol’uck temple. But bear in mind…it may not be up to date.”

I wasn’t sure that Castiel heard me; he was soaking up every last sloppily-drawn line of pencil that he could. Sam and Dean both tried to lean over to sneak a peek at the map, but each time Castiel yanked it out of their reach.

“I can guide our party with this knowledge,” Castiel concluded, rolling up the paper and holding it safely from his companions’ reach. “We should be able to walk in through the front entrance without arousing suspicion.”

Dean snorted and muttered, “Lookin’ like that, suspicion’s not the only thing you’re gonna ar-”

Sam’s foot stomped on Dean’s under the table, cutting him off. Though he grimaced in brief pain, he kept his cool.

“PG-13, please” I scolded, giving Dean a pointed look. “Your group leaves the tavern, Cassius in the lead. The sun is just barely up and a light, chilly fog hangs over Winchester. There’s basically no one around save for a handful of early risers getting their businesses ready for the day. The Aerol’uck temple looks even brighter and taller in daylight, sporting feathery architecture and banners flapping in the breeze. As you get closer to it, you notice that the marble surface has clusters of artfully arranged stones, pieces of glass, and shells embedded in its surface. Up close, the material is like a giant, stone bird’s nest.

“There’s a sharp metal gate over the entryway, although unlike last night, it’s wide open. Two Aarakocras stand guard on either side of the entrance, one with oaken feathers and the other with stony gray feathers. Both of them are clad in traditional white and red robes.” I glanced up from my notes at Castiel. “Cassius, you don’t recognize these two. They might be new.”

Castiel simply nodded, fiddling with his map.

“Though they keep a watchful eye on you as you pass by, neither one says anything. The inside of the temple is spacious. The ceilings are massive and lit by a combination of dangling chandeliers and torches mounted to the walls. A handful of Aarakocra are milling around the massive lobby, but they pay you little mind. Now then…where to?”

The Winchesters simultaneously turned their heads towards Castiel. He flushed slightly when he realized they were both looking to him for guidance.

“Um…” Castiel discreetly unfolded his trusty map. “There are several hallways to choose from, but…if I had to guess where Bobby would have been taken, it would most likely be the meditation safehouse. That was generally where asylum seekers went.”

When Castiel hesitated to go any further, I urged, “Jody says, ‘lead the way!’”

“Right…” Castiel shook himself, stowing his map beneath his character sheet. “The safehouse should be at the end of the second hallway on the right.”

“You follow Cassius down the hallway. The sun’s intensifying rays are magnified by the windows here; that’s not gonna be good for your hangover, Andus.”

“He’s had worse,” Sam brushed off.

“Whatever you say…” I doubted. “At the end of the hallway is a wooden door with wispy carvings on its surface. It looks the same as Cassius remembers it.”

“Cassius maintains his resolve,” Castiel affirmed. “He may have memories and attachments to this place, but he’s on a mission. He opens the door.”

Hiding a grin, I described, “The room beyond is pretty dim. Cots and bunk beds are spread out wherever there’s space, and several of them are occupied. There’s one Aarakocra, a red hummingbird with a frighteningly long, spear-like beak, flitting between the aisles of beds and keeping a keen eye on their inhabitants. She glances up in alarm the instant the door is opened, and you end up in a standoff of sorts. You get the impression you aren’t supposed to be here.”

Dean looked to Castiel for answers. “Does Cassius know who this chick is?”

“Um…” Castiel then looked to me for answers.

I just smiled and pushed the twenty-sided die towards him. “Give perception a try.”

Now used to the mechanics, Castiel grabbed and rolled the die. It skittered across the tabletop, settling on a solid sixteen.

“You’re pretty sure you know who this is,” I said. “She looks like Annara, a member of the Aerol’uck order back when you were still involved in it. She’s a bit older now, and you can’t be completely positive, but it’s safe to assume that’s her identity.”

“Ahhh Anna,” Dean recognized. He suddenly stiffened. “Uh…Andus, you wanna take this one?”

“…Sure?” Sam bemusedly agreed. “You’re the one with high charisma stats, though.”

“Well yeah, but…” Dean crossed his arms, nearly pouting. “It’s a little awkward for _me_ to talk to her, dontcha think?”

Understanding gleamed in Sam’s eyes. “Oooooh, right. Okay, yeah, Andus will approach her.”

Shifting in his seat as he caught on, Castiel checked, “I’m not going to have to compete with Annara for your affections, am I?”

“Oh, god no,” Dean easily denied, laughing to himself. “Nah, Marlow’s only got eyes for one bird—er, bird-turned-human at the moment.”

Smiling his thanks, Castiel leaned over and lightly bonked the side of his head against Dean’s. Though he rolled his eyes for show, Dean nuzzled back for a moment before refocusing on the game.

“Annara’s waiting,” I reminded, peering at Sam out of the corner of my eye. “And remember, last night’s drinking escapades have put you at a disadvantage.”

“Aw crap, that’s right,” Sam remembered. “Well…here goes nothing. Andus ducks through the door and tries to be as non-threatening as possible.”

Smirking, I requested, “Would you mind rolling performance for that?”

Sam nervously complied. Factoring in his disadvantage, he scored one; a critical miss.

“Oof,” I groaned. “You not only hit your head on the doorframe, worsening your headache, but you also end up reflexively growling in anger as you stumble dizzily into the room, giving off the aura of a large, angry moose. Annara is immediately on the defensive, widening her stance and holding out her beak like a lance. Some of the sleeping figures have even awoken and are peering up from their blankets to see what all the fuss is. She might attack you at literally any second.”

“…Shit,” Sam hissed. “Okay, uh… Andus gathers himself as best as he can and says, ‘sorry, not used to low ceilings. I promise I’m not here to hurt anyone.’”

I pushed the die back towards Sam’s side of the table. “Now try for persuasion.”

Sam frowned uncertainly at the die but shook it in his hands anyway. I may have been having just a little too much fun messing with him this time around.

The die landed just short of my book. I leaned forward to read its number, announcing, “Aaaaand that’s a three! Annara doesn’t believe you, and even though she isn’t attacking yet, she’s still ready to at any moment.”

Glancing desperately at his tablemates, Sam pleaded, “Little help, guys?”

“No can do,” Dean managed between a fit of chuckles. “Too awkward for me, and she and Cassius have history.”

Sam turned his attention to me. “Jody?”

“She just looks towards you apologetically and shrugs.”

Running out of options, Sam consulted his spell sheet. “Alright, fine…I’m casting charm person.”

Without even waiting for me to prompt him, Sam deftly swiped up the die and tossed it over the table. It bounced, and factoring in his disadvantage, it granted him an eleven.

“It…sorta works,” I relayed. “She sure isn’t charmed, but she doesn’t look like she’s ready to kill you if need be, either. Still, she’s extremely suspicious.”

“That’s better than nothing…” Sam sighed. “Andus asks, ‘is this the meditation safehouse?’”

“She squints at you and asks, ‘who wants to know?’”

“Visitors,” Sam procured. “We think someone we know might be here, and we’re trying to find him.”

“She relents ever-so-slightly, glancing at your companions through the doorway. Jody nods and steps forward to join you, adding, ‘he’s a dwarf, always wears a blue helmet to match his eyes.’”

Everyone’s eyes widened slightly. Dean broke the silence with a cough. “Interesting detail to fixate on…I mean, I always knew they liked each other, but…”

Glowing with confidence, I countered, “Need I remind you that when describing Castiel, rather than use generalities and size estimates as usual, you gushed to a complete stranger about his ‘dark hair and blue eyes?’”

Everyone stared at me for several tense moments. Only then did I realize they had no idea what I was referencing.

“Oh wait, crap,” I grunted. “That was from an episode after I interfered with the timeline. Never mind, just take my word for it, it totally happened.”

Though none of them said anything about it, I did catch how Dean’s gaze flicked between his partner’s hair and eyes. Had he been asked to describe Castiel in that present moment, I had no doubt he still would have fixated on those features.

“Anyways…” I refocused. “Annara still doesn’t seem to trust you, but she admits, ‘this isn’t the meditation safehouse; not anymore, anyway. This is the temple’s sleeping quarters. There are no dwarves here currently.’”

“Could I attempt to verify that for myself?” Castiel requested.

At my nod, he reached for the die on his own and rolled for investigation. He ended up landing a feeble five.

“It’s hard to see the people under all the blankets, and most of them are still asleep anyways. There’s no telling for sure if any are dwarves…though I should add that you would be inclined to trust Annara’s word. Of your Aarakocra brethren, she was one of the most independent and honest. But then again, there’s no telling how time may have warped her…”

On that uneasy note, Castiel decided to address her directly. “Could she show us to the safehouse?”

“Annara gives Cassius a puzzled look, but says, ‘yes, I can. But I don’t know of any dwarves who have sought asylum here recently.’”

Shrugging, Sam conceded, “Guess we gotta follow her, then.”

“Annara guides you back through the hallway and into the massive main room. You follow her all the way back to the farthest wall of the cathedral where two tall, oaken doors are sealed shut. Beside that is another branch of hallways containing a few rooms. Annara is taking her time, and all throughout the trek she keeps glancing back at Cassius.”

Castiel’s brow creased. “Should I be concerned?”

“You’re not sure, until she pointblank asks you, ‘have I met you before?’”

Freezing up, Castiel pieced together, “Um…m-maybe. I’ve been in this temple before, but…I don’t know that we’ve met.”

“Hmmm you’re gonna need to roll deception on that,” I ruled, passing him the die.

Upon completing its tumble, the die landed on an eight.

“She can’t sense any outright intent to deceive,” I decided. “But…she also doesn’t believe you. She prods you further by asking, ‘are you a follower of Aerol’uck teachings? You remind me of someone I once knew.’”

“Many people have told me that,” Castiel lied. “But I would say my relationship to Aerol’uck teachings is…complicated, at best.”

“You’ve managed to fascinate her. ‘Hmm…that is exactly what my brother once said.’ Before she can elaborate any further, she reaches her desired door and pulls its latch, swinging it open. The room is musty, dark, and neglected. It smells like a mildew sponge bath in there.”

Scrunching up his nose, Dean commented, “Yuck, some safehouse…can I investigate?”

I just nodded towards the die. Going with the motion, Dean rolled a nineteen.

“Even in the darkness, your experiences as a rogue tell you a lot. Based on the cold, stone walls, the chamber pot in the corner, and the slot at the bottom of the door, you know exactly what this is, and it ain’t a safehouse: it’s a prison cell. Before you can warn any of your companions, Annara shuts and latches the door with the rest of you inside. And just like that, you’re trapped.”

“Shoulda seen this coming,” Dean muttered. “Any way out?”

“You didn’t see any in your investigation. It’s harder to tell now since it’s so much darker, but there is a slight indentation on the east wall. It doesn’t budge or yield anything of worth, though. Jody tries kicking at the door, which does nothing, and mutters, ‘great…’”

“Would my night vision help?” Sam offered, perusing his list of character attributes.

I shrugged. “I mean, you can see everything in the room a lot better than anyone else, but…there really is no way out. You can try blasting the door with an attack, if you want.”

“I’d like to cast burning hands,” Castiel jumped in. “I may be able to break or at least weaken the door.”

Impressed by his creativity, I pushed the die towards him. He rolled a fifteen.

“Whips of fire shoot out from your fingertips,” I described. “They hit the door freakin’ hard and leave it singed, buuuut…aside from that, some sort of magical warding is protecting it. Seems the Aerol’uck have thought pretty far ahead with this chamber.”

“Speaking of which,” Sam interjected, “would Cassius mind telling us what’s is going on? What happened to the warm welcome?”

“I…don’t know.” Castiel’s eyes roamed hopelessly over his map. “This room wasn’t a prison when I was here; there isn’t even supposed to _be_ a prison. Things have changed in worse ways than I thought.”

“So, the likelihood of us getting out of here is…?”

“Exceedingly slim. If they have the interior of this room warded against even Aarakcora magic, I’m afraid there’s nothing I can do.”

With a harrumph, Dean fell back in his chair. “Cool. We’ll just have to wait it out. Anyone have a way to pass the time? A harmonica in their inventory or somethin’?”

“Jody isn’t so quick to give up,” I said. “She’s still scouring the room, her little gnome ears perking up as she investigates. But several minutes pass and eventually, even she has to call it quits. The floor’s cold and hard, but there’s nowhere else to sit, so if you guys wanna save your leg strength you’re gonna have to make do.”

“How long are we gonna have to stay here?” Dean demanded, crossing his arms. “Marlow doesn’t like the cold.”

Shifting seamlessly into character, Castiel replied, “If I still had my feathers, I would shelter you from the cold.”

Dean snorted. “You don’t necessarily need feathers to keep someone warm, Cassius…”

“I guess that’s true.” Castiel folded his wings tighter against his back. “In that case, Cassius will pass the time by staying as close to Marlow as possible. He is rather unadjusted to being without feathers, so he’s also feeling cold.”

“Andus pretends to retch in the chamber pot,” Sam added.

“You’re just jealous you don’t have a featherbrain to keep you from freezing your ass off,” Dean countered, laughing as he scooted closer to Castiel in real life.

“All in all, you spend roughly fifteen minutes trapped in the dismal room,” I narrated. “Cassius and Marlow keep each other as warm as they can while Jody sits in a corner. Andus…your headache is getting better now that you’re out of the light. I’ll lessen your disadvantage from here on out.”

“Thank god,” Sam murmured.

“Just when you’re starting to wonder if you’ve been left to rot, something thuds against the east wall. Stillness returns for several moments, until quite abruptly, the indentation in the wall begins depressing further and further until it hollows out entirely and creates a doorway. Light streams in, likely blinding you all for a bit, but once you regain your senses you can see a free exit into a large, neighboring room.”

Apprehensive, Castiel’s eyes flitted back to the map. They widened when he saw what the room must have been. “Um…this may be a problem.”

“Why?” Dean anxiously demanded. “What’s in there?”

“If memory serves, and the layout hasn’t changed, that doorway leads to the high priests’ summit.”

The Winchesters visibly deflated. If they thought they had a battle incoming, they were _so_ right!

“You guys in?” I chirped.

“Guess we have to be,” Sam conceded.

“Alrighty then! Your troop emerges into the brightly-lit room. You see that most of the light is coming from a massive, ornate piece of abstract stained glass set in the back wall. There are long tables on either side of the space, each holding rows of various artifacts and vases containing colorful feathers. A few Aarakocras are stationed by them, each one in Aerol’uck robes; Annara is among them, standing at the large doors that mark the room’s entrance.

“Below the stained glass there are four throne-like seats, although only two are occupied. On the far right sits a large Aarakocra with the appearance of a Shoebill Stork; she absolutely glowers at you as you enter. The second chair from the left contains an equally-sized Albatross Aarakocra with massive, pearly wings; he doesn’t outright glare at you, but you get the feeling he isn’t exactly pleased, either.”

“Welp, we’re screwed,” Dean announced.

“Not yet,” I encouraged. “The Albatross calmly requests that you ‘come forward.’”

“Who’s he supposed to be?” Sam thought to ask.

“Cassius knew from the instant he stepped foot in the room,” I replied. “He’s Mikyle, one of the two remaining high priests. The other is Rafela, notorious for her disciplining beak and irreverence for non-avians.”

“Let me talk to them,” Castiel instructed his teammates. “I understand how to speak to ang- er, Aarakocras.”

“Very well,” I allowed. “If you’re leading the conversation, what do you say?”

“I bow and say, ‘humble high priests, we thank you for allowing us into your sanctuary.’”

Dean looked on in disbelief. “Allowing us into- they threw us in jail!”

Ignoring the comment, Castiel continued. “As a fellow member of the Aerol’uck flock, I ask for your assistance in locating a lost friend. We believe he was taken here under the guise of asylum.”

“Mikyle evenly replies, ‘The dwarf, yes. Annara informed us of your intentions.’”

Unable to hold back, Dean interrupted, “Marlow walks right up there and says, ‘If you knew our intentions so well, then why’d you throw us in jail!?’”

Clicking my tongue, I said, “Bold move, but…Rafela does not look happy at your outburst. The feathers on the back of her neck bristle and she lowly replies, ‘You came in here stuffed to the gills with weapons and magic. We were only following policy for the safety of our flock.’”

“You couldn’t have just, I dunno, _asked_ us first?” Dean demanded.

“Marlow, please,” Castiel pleaded, but the damage had been done.

“Rafela sneers,” I said. “She leans forward in her seat and threatens, ‘Forgive me for not trusting two humans, a half-elf, and a gnome who appeared ready to take down an entire institution.’ She scoffs and quietly adds, ‘Earthly races are so brutish, honestly…I don’t understand why we ever attempted to teach them our ways.’”

Though Dean had a retort primed and ready, Castiel vehemently beat him to the punch.

“That is not true. Our purpose here to is to guide and shepherd those who could benefit from our teachings.” His stare hardened, and I had to force myself not to shrink back. “And besides that, I recall discovering that _they_ had much to teach _us_ in turn.”

“Rafela tilts her head, perplexed by your retort. You’ve piqued Mikyle’s interest as well, and he rejoins the conversation with, ‘You say that as if you aren’t human yourself.’”

Recognition crept onto Castiel’s face as his slip-up set in. “I…have merely been part of the Aerol’uck order for a long time.”

“Roll for deception.”

Everyone waited with bated breath as Castiel rolled the die. Amazingly, it landed on 18.

“They actually believe you,” I said, exhaling the tension. “After all, they have no reason to suspect that you’re anything other than what you appear. Still, suspicion is evident in their demeanor. After that close call, Jody steps up and takes over the conversation: ‘We just want to find our friend. We’re not here to hurt anyone.’”

“Exactly,” Sam backed her up. “The only reason we have weapons is because our friend was kidnapped by someone called the Black Star, and we suspect foul play.”

“They’re both startled by that name; as startled as two stoic high priests can be, anyway. Mikyle redirects, ‘There is no dwarf here. Either he came here without our notice, which is impossible, or you are mistaken.’”

“Well did anyone seek asylum here?” Dean demanded. “Bobby was taken here by some Tiefling underling, do you have one of those?”

“Rafela pulls her beak up in disgust. ‘Any Tieflings that came so much as within the proximity of our temple would be eliminated on sight.’”

“What about Goblins?” Sam thought to ask.

Impressed by Sam’s ingenuity, I divulged some extra information. “Mikyle tells you, ‘No Goblins have ever sought asylum here. The only asylum-seeker here currently is a human; a frail little thing, but he has an excellent eye for transcribing our texts.’”

“You have an asylum-seeker transcribing texts?” Castiel demanded, outrage simmering under his voice. “Asylum-seekers are meant to be sheltered and provided with care, not put to work.”

“Mikyle regards you with pity. ‘You really are an old-fashioned Aerol’uck, aren’t you? Our purpose here isn’t to pander to the earthly; it’s to help them, however forcibly, by imposing our higher insight into their society. With us, this beastly world could become a paradise.’”

That struck an old nerve in Dean, which had honestly been my intention.

“We don’t want your help,” he refuted. “Just tell us where this asylum-seeker guy is and we’ll be out of your hair.” He faltered. “Er, feathers.”

“’We can’t allow that,’ Rafela informs you. ‘He is to remain at his work station, without interruption, as long as we deem necessary.’”

“So you’ve imprisoned him too, huh?” Dean huffed. “Didn’t realize you Aarak- Aarkoc-” He shut his eyes, frustration bubbling up. “I didn’t realize you _feathery assholes_ could be such dicks!”

Repressing a snicker, I sang, “Ooooooh they’re not gonna like that. Matter of fact, Rafela rises to her feet, showing off her massive, hooked talons. She growls, ‘I will not allow such primitive profanity in these sacred halls.’”

Taking that as a challenge, Dean smirked. “Yeah? Well how about fuck you? Whatcha have to say to that?”

Awed, uneasy silence descended on the table. I let it hang for a moment for dramatic effect.

“Everyone, even the other Aarakocras standing guard, are in a state of shocked silence. Rafela narrows her eyes at your party, raises a hand in the air, and hisses, ‘Flock, subdue them.’ At once, the three Aarakocras spread their wings and encircle you, slowly advancing. Their feathers and talons crackle with otherworldly magic.”

Donning a bitchface, Sam dryly said, “Nice going, Marlow. Now we’re birdfeed.”

“’Not yet we aren’t,’ Jody counters. ‘Get behind me, all of you.’”

Though apprehensive, the players nodded.

“You all cower behind Jody. It looks a little ridiculous since she’s so short compared to the rest of you, but you trust her to pull you out of this mess. It turns out your trust was well-placed; she raises a hand and slams it into the ground, casting a Fog Cloud spell. Gray, obscuring mist explodes out from her palm, granting ample cover for you to flee.”

“Let’s get the hell out of dodge!” Dean cheered.

“Under the fog cover, your party runs across the room. Which direction do you wanna go?”

Sam, ever the sensible one, made the executive decision. “Towards the big doors at the back; they lead to the main room, right?”

“Good choice,” I praised. “You push open the massive doors and return to the large, central hub of the temple. The Aarakocras are still disoriented in the smoke you left behind, but that won’t last forever. Where now?”

“Cassius wants to retrieve the asylum-seeker,” Castiel piped up. “If he wants to right the wrongs of his brethren, that would be a good place to start.” He hastily scoured his map. “It stands to reason he would be kept around the same area we were imprisoned.”

“A fair assumption,” I allowed. “You scurry down the appropriate hallway. There are only a few doors there with latches like the one you were trapped in; the second one is empty, but as you lift the latch of the third one…a pretty pathetic scene greets you. There’s a human in there alright, a boy in his late teens with greasy black hair and sleepless eyes. He’s hunched over a table and is in the middle of scribbling down notes by candlelight, surrounded by a few stacks of books and scrolls.”

“Cassius is going right in there to rescue him,” Castiel determined.

“He’s pretty surprised by this turn of events. He only manages to sputter, ‘Wh- who are you-’ before you grab him by the arm and haul him out into the hallway. He looks rather shaken, trembling in your hold.”

“Marlow tells him, ‘It’s alright, kid,’” Dean soothed. “’We’re the good guys, we’re gonna get you out of here.’”

Smiling at Dean’s characterization, I replied, “He’s anything but certain, but he still nods and sticks with you. His eyes widen in renewed fear when he looks towards the end of the hallway, though.”

“We’ve got company, don’t we,” Sam assumed, and I nodded with just a little too much enthusiasm.

“Those Aarakocras have caught up to you! Roll initiative!”

Everyone took turns rolling the die to determine their respective place in the attack order. I rolled on Jody’s behalf, and she ended up with a natural twenty, placing her in prime position for an early attack.

“Jody leaps to action first,” I said, feeling the rush of excitement only battle could bring. “She uses her reflexes and size to her advantage as she swiftly readies and arrow in her bow, sending it flying towards one of the Aarakocras. And she lands…” I rolled the die. “A clean hit for 3 damage! Her arrow plunges itself into the wing of a bright green Aarakocra, making him howl in indignation.”

“Go, Jody!” Dean cheered.

“Go Jody, indeed,” I agreed. “But…the arrow’s target is incensed by the attack. He saunters closer, and you see that he looks like a parrot with bright, flamboyant plumage; Cassius, you’d be more than a little alarmed to recognize this fellow as Bazalt, one of your closest brothers from your past.”

Something withered in Castiel’s expression. I wondered if I should have avoided placing Balthazar into the story, but Castiel regained his resolve within seconds, so I pressed on.

“Bazalt takes aim at Jody, sending an arc of lightning from the tip of his undamaged wing.” One die roll later, I continued, “…And it loses it course partway there. All Jody’s got is a bit of singed, static-stricken hair. Cassius is next in the order.”

Assessing his list of spells with the utmost intensity, Castiel said, “I will use Sacred Flame on…” His face twisted. “Who all are we fighting? Annara, Bazalt, and…?”

“Urium,” I supplied. “A large, Tawny Owl Aarakocra known for being an impenetrable wall of feathers.”

“I’ll take aim at Urium, then.”

Though a little surprised by his sudden decision, I let Castiel roll his die. He landed a seventeen for accuracy, followed by two damage.

“A radiant fire descends on Urium,” I described. “It hits and harshly singes his left shoulder, visibly aggrieving him. Andus is next!”

Sam was already way ahead of me. “Magic missile. All three of them.”

Trying not to balk, I muttered, “Andus ain’t messin’ around!”

The die wasn’t, either. It granted a fourteen, followed by a three and one.

“The sharp-tipped arcs of magic hit…I’ll say two of your targets,” I allotted. “One of them hits Annara hard in the leg, and the other scrapes across Urium’s chest, although his bulk mostly deflects it. Marlow’s up now!”

For the entirety of the battle thus far, Dean had been shifting anxiously in his seat. He wanted in on this action ASAP.

“Marlow unsheathes his dagger, charges right up to Urium, and stabs him where Andus hit him!”

“Brutal,” I quipped. “But will the dice allow it?”

They most definitely did. Seventeen, then one.

“Piggybacking on Andus’s successful hit, you jab at Urium’s sore spot. He really is rather beefy and takes the hit surprisingly well, even up close, but he takes damage. Unfortunately for you, you’re now right in the midst of the Aarakocras, and as such are prone…”

“Crud,” Dean muttered.

“Annara produces a flame from her talon right against your back. It deals…” I rolled the die. “Two damage. That’s gonna hurt. But your sacrifice was not in vain; Jody takes her chance to take precise aim at Annara while she’s distracted and sends a honing arrow right towards her back. Which…” I hissed at the results of the roll. “Imbeds itself deep enough that she crumples and falls to the floor, seriously injured. She’s out for the count.

“…Which doesn’t please her companions in the slightest. Urium takes his turn, flapping his wings and kicking up a powerful, electrically-charged cyclone of air that plows through all of you. It lands…two damage on each of you.” I glanced at Dean. “Watch your health, Marlow, you’re in the red.”

Heeding my warning, Dean replied, “Yeah, Marlow’s gonna rush back to join the rest of the team. Safety in numbers, right?”

“Indeed,” Castiel lowly agreed. “Cassius won’t stand for seeing those he cares for hurt so badly in the name of misguided faith. He casts Burning Hands, aiming the flames at both remaining Aarakocras.”

Upon the die granting him an eighteen, I whistled. “Yeah, those flames hit their marks. And they hit for…one damage on Urium and three on Bazalt. The latter succumbs to the flames and topples to the floor, defeated.”

Smirking in triumph, Dean turned to his brother. “Andy? Wanna do the final honors?”

“You know it,” Sam replied. “I’m casting one last set of Magic Missles at Urium.”

The dice tumbled across the table, granting lackluster accuracy but sufficient damage.

“Only one missile hits, but that’s all it takes,” I decreed. “Thanks to targeting that one spot on Urium’s chest repeatedly, he has no choice but to give up. He clutches at the wounded spot, falling to his knees and curling into his wings. Congratulations, you’ve won!”

Glowing with triumph, Sam and Dean high-fived across the table. Dean turned his palm towards Castiel, waiting expectantly for the angel to return the gesture.

All Castiel offered in return was a puzzled look at Dean’s flattened hand. As uncertainly as ever, the angel reached up with his own hand and…just sorta softly covered Dean’s.

It sure wasn’t a high five, but I don’t think Dean minded. He just sputtered with laughter and closed his fingers over Castiel’s, holding their hands together even when he lowered them back to the tabletop.

“While you’re busy celebrating your victory,” I interrupted, “the asylum-seeker, who has been utterly cowering behind you this whole time, pipes up. ‘We gotta get out of here before more find us!’”

“He’s right,” Sam nodded. “Cassius, where’s the nearest exit?”

“It’s…” Castiel trailed off. He seemed troubled by something. “My map says there’s a hatch leading outside at the bend of this hallway, but…you all can go ahead.”

The Winchesters’ faces twisted in shock. They exclaimed in perfect sync, “What?”

“Just go,” Castiel insisted. “I’ll catch up with you.”

Dean’s expression darkened, no doubt recalling unpleasant memories and associations. “Marlow is _not_ leaving Cassius here.”

Rolling his eyes, Castiel requested, “Can I roll for persuasion?”

Though confused, I nodded my allowance. The die rolled an eleven.

“Not enough,” Marlow announced. “Marlow isn’t leaving. Whatever stupid, self-sacrificial stunt Cassius is planning, he’s not doing it alone.”

“…Fine,” Castiel sighed. “Jody and Andus should make sure the boy gets to safety. This won’t take long.”

Though still uncertain, Sam followed his character’s alignment. “Alright…Andus follows Jody to the end of the hallway and helps the asylum-seeker out of the hatch.”

Collecting himself, Castiel relayed, “Though frustrated by Marlow’s stubbornness, Cassius gathers his strength and leans down to examine his fallen brethren. He casts Healing Word on all of their wounds.”

“Wait, what?” Dean exclaimed. “Those guys just tried to kill us, and you’re patchin’ ‘em up as good as new?”

Castiel paused, then turned a pleading look towards Dean. “They’re still my family. Though misguided…I don’t intend to let any of them be harmed by my hand; not again.”

Understanding melted Dean’s resolve. He had the decency to look a bit ashamed, squeezing Castiel’s hand and murmuring, “Right, I understand…”

Thoroughly touched by the moment, I didn’t even require Castiel to roll for the spell. “Drawing on his inner strength, Cassius waves glowing, healing fingers over the injuries, patching them up until they are only minor. The Aarakocras stir slightly, and Bazalt regains enough of his senses to open his eyes and look up at you both. He flinches and shrinks away, but calms when he realizes his burns have improved. More than anything, he’s confused.”

“It’s alright, brother,” Castiel soothed.

“Bazalt is even more confused by that. He croaks, ‘Brother? What…?’ And with impeccable, cinematic timing, the transmogrification potion wears off. Silver, dusty mist leaks out from your human form, and when it evaporates, it leaves behind your true Aarakocra body. Bazalt stares at you in utter wonder, murmuring, ‘…Cassius?’”

Castiel gently nodded. “Take care, brother. I’m sorry for everything; I promise, I’ll do right by you and fix all of this.”

Wow. _Ow_ , that hit me right in the feels.

“Bazalt’s face clogs with emotion, but he nods and stays down,” I managed. “Neither he, nor Annara, nor Urium are going to attack you. You’re free to leave.”

Bowing his head, Castiel intoned, “In that case, we’ll take our leave.”

Shaking himself, Dean added, “Marlow’s…actually a little shocked. He probably wouldn’t say it, but this scene was actually really touching to him.” He scoffed. “As if he couldn’t admire Cassius any more than he already does…”

Beaming at the turn of events, I resumed the story. “Marlow and Cassius leave the recovering Aarakocras and catch up to the rest of the party. Jody is perched just outside the hatch, and she lends a hand to lift both of you outside. The sun is fully up now, although you’re sheltered by the shade of the temple’s spires.”

“We need to get further away,” Sam took charge.

“Right you are, Andy,” Dean was quick to agree. “Which way?”

Consulting my notes, I relayed, “The town is stretched out in front of the temple, but behind that is thick, sheltered forest. It shouldn’t take an insight roll to figure out which direction is best; Jody takes the asylum-seeker’s hand and stealthily leads you into the underbrush.”

“Watch that long hair of yours,” Dean quipped to his brother. “Wouldn’t want it getting tangled in the branches.”

“I never said Andus has long hair,” Sam defended.

Dean raised a disbelieving eyebrow. “But does he?”

“…Yes,” Sam admitted. “I kinda pictured him with an elegant elf hairstyle. But it’s not going to get caught in any branches!”

“You willing to chance a stealth check on that?”

Grabbing the twenty-sided die in defiance, Sam shook his hands and violently cast his roll. He ended up with a ten.

“Andus doesn’t exactly get stuck,” I ruled. “But…he does find that his hair slows him down a little, and he ends up with a lot of loose leaves and twigs tangled in his luxurious locks.”

Frowning, Sam huffed and ignored his brother’s resounding laughter.

“Hair shenanigans aside, Jody leads you far enough into the woods that the underbrush thins out. She checks the perimeter, and once she deems it safe, allows the exhausted human boy to sit down under a sturdy elm. She gives him time to get comfortable and catch his breath before gently asking, ‘What’s your name?’ He hesitates, but replies, ‘I’m Kayvan…Kayvan Trant.’"

“Kevin,” Dean fondly recognized, smiling around the name.

“Kayvan still looks rather shaken; he won’t meet any of your eyes, and the poor guy’s wearing a haunted look. I’d recommend you proceed with caution.”

“I’ll handle this,” Castiel volunteered.

Snorting, Dean joked, “Just don’t go bad cop on him.”

Though briefly embarrassed by the reminder, Castiel stayed on task. “Cassius kneels down beside him Kayvan and says, ‘I’m deeply sorry that my brethren held you against your will.’”

“He shrinks away from you,” I relayed. “Doesn’t really trust Aarakocras after what happened to him…”

Abashed, Castiel folded his wings. “…Right. Cassius will keep his wings as low as possible and maintain a respectful distance.”

“Marlow can vouch for him,” Dean piped up. “Tells Kayvan, ‘He’s not like the other ones, I promise. He’s a good guy- more than that, a _fantastic_ guy, really.’”

Castiel flushed, shyly smiling his gratitude. “I simply do what I can…but more to the point, we’re going to need some information.”

“Kayvan glances nervously between Cassius and the rest of the party, but upon weighing his options, he curtly nods his consent. Ask away.”

Getting right to business, Castiel asked, “While you were at the Aerol’uck temple, did you happen to see a dwarf? His name is Bobby Singer, he’s a missing friend of ours.”

“His eyes widen at the name. He definitely recognizes it, but he shakes his head and stammers, ‘N-no, I didn’t see a dwarf.’”

Sighing, Dean chipped in. “Marlow joins the interrogation and checks, ‘You sure? ‘Cause you don’t have to hide anything from us, you’re safe here.’”

Clicking my tongue, I replied, “It’s still not enough. He shakes his head again, firmer this time, and doesn’t even speak.”

Trying another approach, Dean requested, “Could I make a…charisma throw, or something like that?”

“Go for it!”

Upon complying, Dean landed an eighteen.

“Whatever you wanna say, it’s probably gonna work,” I judged.

Grinning in triumph, Dean shifted right back into character. “Listen, Kayvan, I’m gonna level with you: you seem like you’ve been through some stuff. I get it, I’ve had my fair share of rough times too. But you don’t have to worry about that anymore. I know lying when I see it; I’m a rogue, it’s kinda what I do. So whatever you’re hiding, those Aerol’uck douches can’t hurt you now, and we really need to get Bobby back.”

Thoroughly impressed, I allowed, “Kayvan takes a moment to process that, and sighs before muttering, ‘It’s not the Aerol’uck I’m worried about. There’s someone else- a Tiefling…”

Sam perked up. “Crowley?”

“Kayvan tenses up at the name. Andus is right on the money.”

“We ran into him earlier,” Dean explained. “Sent him running and searched his documents, which led us here. How do you know him?”

“Though he’s still nervous, Kayvan tells you, ‘I…sort of work for him. He has me under contract, I-I didn’t want to-’ He stops himself and breathes, gathering his courage. ‘He told me to take the dwarf here for an exchange, but…after that, I got caught on my way out by one of the Aerol’uck. They’ve been holding me in that room ever since…’”

The group processed this in silence for a few moments. Sam was the first to speak up again.

“Who were you exchanging with?”

“Kayvan has to think for a moment, but he recalls, ‘Um, Crowley called him the Black Star. I couldn’t see him that well, the temple is pitch dark at night, but…he had this awful, scarred face.’”

“Did he mention where he was taking Bobby?” Castiel asked.

“’He said something about going underground beneath a volcano, but I don’t know exactly where he meant.’” I decided to help them out a little, adding, “Jody pipes up, ‘He was probably talking about Mt. Lebberon. It’s a dormant volcano just beyond the woods here.’”

“Guess that’s our next stop,” Dean commented. “One more thing: Kayvan, how’d a kid like you get tangled up with someone like Crowley?”

“At that line of questioning, Kayvan falls silent and shrinks in shame. But, since you’ve earned his trust, he eventually concedes, ‘I didn’t want to, but…he had leverage. He said he’d hurt my mom if I didn’t do what he said, maybe even kill her.’”

Worry creasing his brow, Dean persisted, “Where’s your mom now?”

“’Back at home,’ he says. ‘But I know Crowley has enough connections to get to her easily, and now that I’ve told you all this, I don’t know if-’”

“She’ll be alright,” Castiel promised. “We’ll make sure of it.”

Despite his words, Castiel didn’t look certain. Feeling pity for the situation I’d created, I interjected, “Jody steps in and reassures him, ‘I’ll make sure your mom is alright, okay? I’ll even take you to see her. We can go back to my town, you’ll both be safe there.’”

“…Wait,” Dean realized. “She’s leaving?”

I shrugged in an attempt to imitate Jody. “’Somebody’s gotta look after this kid. No offense, but you three don’t exactly seem like the parental type, and I’ve got experience; have a couple of kids back at home who are way more of a handful than this one.’”

A subtle but telling smile ghosted over Castiel’s face. He must have known which two kids I was talking about. Which meant that for all the alterations I’d caused to their world’s timeline, that particular tidbit may have remained intact. Huh…interesting.

“You sure you’re gonna be alright?” Dean pressed. “I mean, I know you’re tough, but-”

I forcefully held out a hand to silence him, channeling my inner Jody once more. “She doesn’t let you finish. ‘They don’t call me Sheriff Millweed for nothing. I look after and enforce the law in my whole town; I think I can look out for myself and one traumatized kid for a day or two.’”

“Cassius would at least like to heal her before she goes,” Castiel spoke up.

“Sure!” I chirped. “In fact, since you’re at a break, I’ll let you all take a short rest and restore your health. Jody sticks around just long enough to make sure you’ve all recovered from the fight, then bids you farewell and sneaks out through the underbrush with Kayvan. Just before she ducks under the foliage, she tells you, ‘Mt. Lebberon is just a couple mile’s hike north from here. Be careful, boys.’” 

I closed my book with a thunk. “And that, gentlemen, is where we’re ending tonight.”

“Perfect timing!” sang a chipper voice from the doorway.

All of us jumped, our eyes darting towards the kitchen door where it hung ajar in the night. Danny was standing there in sopping wet clothes, dripping puddles all over the floor.

“Silvan was just about to open the hatch to the roof,” Danny told us. “Thought a bit of romantic star-gazing might set the mood,” he added with a smirk.

“I didn’t say that,” Silvan objected, sloshing up the pool steps and equally as soaked. “All I said was that they should have the chance to see Dominica’s night sky while they’re here.”

Danny’s smirk grew. “ _And_ you said there’s nothing quite as romantic as watching the stars from up there, too.”

Even in the darkness, I could see the faintest signs of a blush on Silvan’s shadowed features. “I…only said that about me and you,” he stammered. “Forget it, we’ll be on the roof if they want to join us. The view really is worth it.”

With that, Silvan grabbed a folded towel from a basket by the poolside and began methodically wiping himself dry. He only got as far as drying his legs before Danny’s patience ran out, and he was tugged towards the stairs by his eager boyfriend.

Shaking my head at their antics, I turned back to the table. “We following them, guys?”

“Obviously,” Dean replied, gathering his character sheet and rising to leave. He paused on his way out, taking and squeezing one of Castiel’s hands as he flirted, “Wouldn’t wanna miss out on that romantic mood, huh Cas?”

“We certainly wouldn’t,” Castiel easily replied, following Dean towards their room to stow their papers.

Sam and I gathered our own supplies, the former taking care to keep Wattson close by. The moose and puppy pair left the kitchen before me, bound for their room, and I followed suit once all my notes were safely pressed between the pages of my guidebook.

The stairs were precariously wet when I ascended them; evidently Silvan and Danny had left a trail. I followed the trail all the way up to the second floor, where it continued upwards on a steeper set of stairs that ended in a glass hatch. Said hatch was flung open, and whatever lay beyond it was obscured in darkness.

Once I’d safely stored my D&D stuff back in my room, I very, _very_ cautiously climbed the highest set of steps. Thankfully, I didn’t slip and fall to my death, but not-so-thankfully, I was practically blind upon crawling through the hatch. I found myself in a compact, square space made of concrete. Benches were built into the relatively short walls that made up the boundaries of the roof, encircling the area without choking the vast, open air.

And that was when my gaze drifted upwards into that open air and towards the sky. A breathy gasp passed my lips at the sight.

One of the undeniable perks of living on the ocean was the sights, particularly those offered by the night sky. Without light pollution or massive cityscapes scaring them away, the stars showed their true luster and colors for the lucky few to behold.

Not a speck of black escaped the clustered, thrumming lights that speckled the sky. The array of stars was tightly-packed yet artfully arranged, extending from one side of the horizon to the other in an unbroken, luminescent blanket. For a few brief, blissful moments, I thought I was back on my sailboat, lounging on the crest of its bow while it drifted in the open ocean, watching the sky with the water as my only companion.

Only this time, I was far from alone. Sam was already there, seated in a corner with an entranced Wattson in his lap. The pup’s tail wagged as he took in the world from this new vantage point, one he had likely never been exposed to before. As promised, Silvan and Danny were present too, smushed together, hands intertwined, and eyes locked on the sky.

Once I’d managed to break the stars’ entrancing spell, I seated myself on the farthest wall, the one closest to the ocean. Even up this high, I could still hear its roars. Each breath of fresh, humid air brought a new wave of peace over me, and I felt as if the ocean itself were washing over me.

It didn’t take long for Dean and Castiel to ascend to the roof too. They both paused to admire the sky, and once thoroughly cast under its spell, absently wandered to plop down on the back wall’s seating.

No one said anything for the next fifteen minutes, but nothing needed to be said. The night and ocean worked in tandem to convey their message, one of simultaneous reassurance and chaos that soothed some primal instinct in me. The world was a scary and beautiful place, and that time atop the villa’s roof was just what I needed to remind me of that.

The night served its purpose for the others, too. I caught glimpses of Silvan and Danny sneaking kisses in their own corner, resolving their differences and meeting squarely in the middle. Wattson eventually settled down in Sam’s lap, while Sam himself traced constellations with his eyes as though to gain some transcendental insight. And Dean and Castiel…well, they were almost too cute to handle.

A flash of blue from the other end of the roof made me flinch, but I softened when I saw it was just Castiel bringing his wings to their corporeal state. He wrapped one around a pliant Dean, holding him close and peppering a few kisses to the side of his head. Dean nestled in under his inky blanket, allowing himself to be cared for. Amazing how he’d resisted such attention less than a year ago…

Though enraptured by the stars, I found my attention intermittently going back to my companions. Everyone was calm and awed, focused solely on the stars…except for those two stubborn otters. Sure, Dean and Castiel took their time to appreciate the once-in-a-lifetime view, but even that couldn’t compete with the apparent galaxies they saw in each other’s eyes. I swear, they must have spent ten minutes straight just cataloguing every detail of each other’s stares.

Well, Danny was certainly right about one thing: stargazing up here really did set a romantic mood.

…And a sleepy mood. Normally, I’d already be in bed, lulled into dreams by the miraculous day-night cycle of the island, but all of today’s excitement had given me just enough of a push to stay up a little later. Soon, I’d have nothing left but fumes to run on.

Sam was the first to get up, mentioning something about “making sure Wattson was fed,” and Dean and Castiel followed suit (the former didn’t want to leave, but Castiel insisted upon Dean yawning three times in a row). I took one last look at Silvan and Danny, who were a little too wrapped up in each other to notice anyone else, and ducked through the hatch after my friends.

My eyelids drooped at the first sight of my bedroom. Though I could feel the magnetic pull of my bed dragging me nearer (or was it just my head swimming with dizziness?), something nagged at the back of my mind; some sort of unfinished business…

I snapped to awareness the instant I realized what it was. Banishing my tiredness, I spun around and promptly descended the stairs towards Dean and Castiel’s room. The pair were already inside, Castiel leaned against the headboard and patiently waiting under the covers while Dean did his nightly routine in the bathroom.

Trying my hardest not to feel like a stalker, I took my spot in the hammock and waited. Dean emerged before long, in PJs as usual. Unlike usual, however, he held what appeared to be a second set of PJs in his hand. He looked…nervous?

“Hey Cas, before you get into bed…” Dean started sleepily, and the angel sat at attention and waited. “I was just thinking—and you don’t have to if you don’t want to –but what if you put on my spare PJs for the night? That way there isn’t as much overheating, and…and your wings might be able to-”

The instant wings were added into the equation, Castiel perked up and pulled himself out from under the covers. “That is an excellent idea. I realized on the beach, and later on the roof that I…rather miss feeling you in my wings…”

Flushing and chuckling, Dean handed over the spare pajamas. Castiel took them, and in a single whoosh of angelic powers, they were on him. His suit was neatly folded beside his coat where it lay atop the room’s dresser.

While Castiel adjusted to his new clothes, Dean looked up him and down, smirking.

“I wish I got to see you outside of that suit more often,” he flirted.

Face turning pink, Castiel smiled affectionately. “Come to bed, Dean. I can tell you’re quite tired.”

Dean was glad to comply, turning off the lights and sinking under the covers alongside Castiel. Before Dean had even finished settling, Castiel’s wings flashed into the corporeal plane and ensnared him, dragging him across the bed towards their owner.

“Whoa!” Dean cried on instinct, though his surprise melted into understanding rather quickly. “Alright, alright, I get it…”

Settling into his new position, Dean faced Castiel and pulled him into an embrace of his own. The angel hummed, and I could just barely see him squeezing his wings around Dean to form a tight shelter.

“I have missed this,” Castiel sighed out. “I’m not sure that I’ve mentioned it before, but this allows you to be as close to my true form as possible.”

Humming sleepily, Dean divulged, “You know, sometimes…when I’m holdin’ you like this, I’ll remember what you look like in your true form, and then I’ll think, ‘oh wow, I’m holding all of that in my arms right now.’ Boggles my mind a little…”

Shifting his wings around somewhat, Castiel warmly replied, “Well I can assure you that every bit of my massive true self, as tightly packed as it is in this vessel, is delighted to be held by you.”

That schmoopy revelation hurled Dean into awestruck silence. I wasn’t sure what was happening for a bit, but eventually the kissy sounds emanating from the room told me all I needed to know. I wondered if I should turn around to spare their privacy, but as my eyes adjusted to the dimness, I could see this was hardly anything to worry about.

Sure, there was smooching, just not of the making out variety. Matter of fact, it was mostly just Dean smushing his lips around Castiel’s face. It started out as just a sweet gesture, but picked up upon a laugh catching in Castiel’s throat; from then on it became Dean’s mission to tickle the angel out of stoicism.

And he succeeded quite handily. Before long, Castiel was a wiggly, giggly mess, playfully batting Dean away with his wings. This did nothing to deter Dean; in fact, it only made him try harder. Taking advantage of the looser clothing his boyfriend wore, Dean set to attacking Castiel’s neck with blubbery raspberries. I found myself having to grapple and subdue my own laughter in response to the near-hysterics that elicited from Castiel.

Eventually, the tickling became too much for Castiel to take, so he fluffed up one of his wings and maneuvered it between him and Dean’s face. Blocked by the feathery shield, Dean relented…but only for a moment.

Grinning as though something ingenious had occurred to him, Dean nuzzled into the feathers, and smooched. The response was instantaneous, dragging a startled, gurgling laugh from Castiel. His feathers somehow fluffed up even further, which only egged Dean on as he nosed and kissed between them.

Without warning, Castiel withdrew his wings, spread them wide, and trapped Dean within them. I jumped a little at the sudden move, but relaxed when I saw Castiel was just pulling Dean down to lay on top of him. I relaxed further when I saw a definite, adoring smile on Castiel’s face. Happily scrunching his eyes closed, Castiel initiated his cuddly kitten mode and nuzzled his cheek into the top of Dean’s head, mussing up his hair.

Though briefly bemused, Dean hummed in amusement and accepted the attention. Over time, Castiel’s snuggling grew less insistent and more relaxed, calming himself with Dean’s nearness. Eventually, he stopped altogether and burrowed down into the blankets, shifting so that he and Dean were beside each other, their faces inches apart.

Humming drowsily, Dean murmured, “Mmm, you snuggle bug…y’re so sweet…did I go too far with the wings?”

“Not at all,” Castiel raced to refute. “That was, um…actually very nice.”

“Really?” Though it was too dark to confirm, I had high suspicions Dean was wearing one of his signature flirty faces. “Well, how ‘bout that…”

Sure enough, Dean scooched up somewhat so that he could smooch the feathers of the wing nearest him. Said wing scooped him up and pulled him nearer to a very, _very_ content Castiel.

Taking a few moments to relish the affection, Castiel said, “Yes, that _is_ very nice. As I…as I said before, my wings are the closest you can be to my true self, so…”

“’Splains it,” Dean muttered between kisses. “Found another one of yer weak spots.”

“I suppose you have,” Castiel replied with a chuckle. “You needn’t sacrifice your own sleep to keep it up, though…”

“Nah,” Dean dismissed. “You deserve all the feather kisses. Lemme do this for ya…”

Though he must have worried about Dean sacrificing his much-needed rest, those feather kisses really must have been a wonder, because Castiel just settled in and let Dean carry on. I lingered for a few minutes, alternating between keeping an eye on the pair and attempting to pick out all the colors in the garden below. Every time I checked, Dean was showering that nearest wing with the sweetest, gentlest kisses I could imagine. I laughed fondly; a sleepy Dean was a sappy Dean.

Just as I was about to cave to my own sleepiness and retreat upstairs, I heard the tiniest snore from the bedroom. From the way Dean was laying in the crook of the wing he’d been attending to, it looked like he’d lost his battle against the tide of sleep. Castiel must have realized this too, because he gingerly wrapped his feathers tighter around Dean, shuffling until their faces were pressed nose-to-nose on the same pillow. Even through the shadows I could see his smile, and his eyes fell closed as he laid still and basked in contentedness.

That sight alone might have made me squeal if it weren’t for how tired I was. Silently wishing them both a good night’s rest, I hobbled out of the hammock. Before I could take so much as a single step towards the stairs, I heard the creak of someone descending them. Tensing, I darted underneath the hammock, crouching in its shadow.

It turned out it wasn’t some monster of the night as I’d feared, but just Silvan and Danny returning from the roof. Neither of them noticed me, but I sure noticed them. Both hardly stopped, all smiles as they descended into the basement together. I had a feeling Danny wouldn’t be leaving tonight…

Now confident that I wouldn’t encounter anyone else, I tiredly climbed the stairs and collapsed on my bed without even bothering to change. Despite the lethargy that weighed on my body, my spirit was soaring: everyone was happy, the ocean was near, and we had a plan to help the island and secure my wish.

What could possibly go wrong?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Self-control? Who's that? I don't know her.
> 
> But seriously, this chapter got pretty long. I just couldn't help myself. >w<
> 
> Overhead photo of Batibou: https://louisiana2dominica.files.wordpress.com/2013/11/dscn5140.jpg
> 
> Photo of palms on Batibou beach: https://media-cdn.tripadvisor.com/media/photo-s/07/f3/97/24/batibou-beach.jpg
> 
> Photo of the peninsula: http://464.ce9.myftpupload.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/02/vp-from-point-2-1.jpg


	9. In which you somehow get yourself together, Dean takes a swan dive, Castiel learns about memes, and Sam reevaluates his whole existence

_5/31/18_

In hindsight, that was never a good question to ask, least of all when multiversal and celestial forces were involved. But in my defense, I really had been riding such a high last night that I could scarcely conceive of anything going wrong.

That high continued to carry me well throughout the next morning. Although I woke slightly later than I was used to, I found myself smiling from the first time I opened my eyes. Even the slightly grimy clothes I’d worn to bed couldn’t get me down.

As I brushed my teeth, I ran over the plan in my head one more time: Sam would use his wi-fi powers and computer expertise to fix some of the local communication issues, Dean would casually slip into the village’s housing team to employ his technical expertise and get as much building done as possible, and Castiel and I would hone in on the largest swaths of vines, tear them up by the roots through sheer angelic strength, and dump them where they could never choke precious farmland again.

It obviously wasn’t gonna fix the entire island; there was no conceivable way to undo a hurricane’s damage in one week, let alone one day. But it would still make an impact, and that was what mattered.

The villa was unusually quiet when I emerged from my room. From what I could tell, I was the only one awake aside from the ever-present ocean.

Speaking of the ocean…as my deadline drew nearer, I realized that sooner than later, I was going to have to leave it behind. A swell of longing surged in my being, and I found my feet carrying me to my favorite spot on the balcony. The ocean was easiest to see from this point, and I let the sight soothe me while I stared out at the sea to appreciate its every nuance: the varying shades of blue in its depths, the tiny rocky islands that crashed and foamed with every wave that rolled over them, the glittering expanse of sunlight that made a night sky in broad daylight…

The waters had me so enraptured that I nearly shrieked upon hearing a definite whoosh of winds behind me. I calmed the instant I spun around and saw Castiel, carrying a bundle of beach sundries and looking like a deer caught in the headlights.

“S-sorry, [Y/N],” he muttered. “I didn’t realize you would be awake.”

“That’s fine,” I assured, suppressing a laugh. “You got some more beachcombing treasures?”

“A few, yes.” He extended his spoils somewhat for me to see, which consisted of mostly more shells, bleached segments of coral, and a few extra fragments of green and blue sea glass.

“Looks good,” I encouraged. “You gonna get to decorating?”

Nodding, Castiel headed for the master bedroom’s door. I spared him the trouble of fumbling to open it with his armful of goodies, instead swinging the doors open myself. The room’s contents still took my breath away; there was evidence of deliberate, devoted arrangement in every conceivable corner of the space. Varied colors and shapes worked in harmony to create the thoughtful nest Castiel strived for.

I doubted that it could even be improved upon, but Castiel proved me wrong. With careful movements, he placed the shells seamlessly into the spiraling patterns that adorned every surface, adding the fragile bits of dead coral to create more variety and give the arrangement a more three-dimensional element. Each piece of sea glass was artfully slipped into the holes of the bug net, maintaining perfect spacing yet filling the curtain with color.

All the while, I patiently sat cross-legged right outside the door, observing Castiel’s technique. If this nesting instincts remained with him into the future, he may very well have a future as a professional interior decorator…

While I was busy snickering at that mental image, Castiel let out the tiniest gasp. He took a few steps back until he was standing right beside me, his eyes piercingly drifting around the room to take in every last detail. I rose to my feet, giving him a questioning look.

Mouth falling open, he whispered, “It’s done. I don’t know how it is, but I feel it…it’s done.”

My own mouth fell open, excitement taking hold of my frame. I had to restrain myself from grabbing the angel in a celebratory hug, instead settling for a thrilled little squeal and bouncing back and forth between my feet.

“That means…” I prompted, eagerness leaking into my voice.

“Yes,” Castiel confirmed, looking to me with a smile. “It’s ready for Dean.”

“ _Finally!_ ” I cheered, only thinking to mind my volume after the fact. “Go tell him, go tell him, _go tell him!_ ” I urged, all but shoving him across the balcony and towards the stairs.

Thoroughly startled, Castiel resisted. “U-um, wait—what if he—I mean, I wouldn’t want to startle him with it—”

I halted, stepping around until I could squarely face Castiel and look him in the eye. “For the last time, he’s going to _love it_. I understand that you’re nervous, but it’s gonna be awesome. He’s been so excited to see what the surprise is!”

“Yes, but…” Castiel sighed. “What if he thinks it’s…too odd? From what I’ve seen, it isn’t exactly customary for humans to court each other by building elaborate nests; I didn’t even realize it could be customary for angels until recently.”

Shaking my head defiantly, I countered, “It may not be ‘normal’ per se, but you know what? Screw normal! You guys are anything _but_ normal! A human-angel relationship in and of itself is pretty out of the ordinary. And I can also promise you this: your angelic traits? Dean digs them. At the very least, he’ll be amused and appreciative of the gesture.” I smirked. “And besides, it’s not really about the nest, anyways: it’s about the reason you made it in the first place.”

A lightness lifted Castiel somewhat. “I made it…because I love him. Very dearly.”

I snapped my fingers. “Exactly! Now go on down there, wake up your boyfriend, and show off the fruits of your labor!”

Castiel squinted, his worry returning. “I…didn’t include any fruit in the arrangement. Should I have?”

Only barely managing to hold back a burst of laughter, I replied, “No, no, don’t worry about it. Just show him.”

With a reassuring pat on the back, I let Castiel close the nest’s doors and sent him on his way. He descended the steps, glancing back at me for reassurance, and eventually emerged onto the main floor below. I peered over the balcony railing to keep an eye on him. He still held himself uncertainly, pausing when he reached the door of his and Dean’s temporary room. Puffing up his chest and holding his wings just a little bit higher, he twisted the doorknob and stepped inside before his doubts could stop him.

Waiting anxiously above, I strained my ears to hear whatever I could. I heard Castiel calling Dean’s name, followed by the hunter’s groggy complaints about being woken so early. His tone rapidly changed shortly thereafter, and I caught the few words “finally!” and “lead the way.”

Bouncing with anticipation, I retreated from the balcony’s edge and perched on the nearest recliner. I could hear the stairs creak as the pair ascended, and it took everything in me to maintain a cool composure by the time they reached the second floor.

Dean, who’d had no time to change out of his PJs, noticed me immediately, suspicion creasing his brow. I just gave him a cryptic smile in return and pretended to watch a bird on an overhanging branch in the garden. That didn’t last for long however, and the instant I was certain Dean’s attention had been redirected elsewhere, I sneakily turned my head to watch the scene unfold.

The two of them stopped just short of the doors, Castiel hesitating on the precipice. He glanced at me, uncertainty resurging in his eyes, but I nodded my encouragement and he calmed.

“So…your surprise,” Castiel awkwardly began.

“The secret you’ve been keepin’ all week, yeah,” Dean huffed. “I’ve heard of it.”

Bashfully folding his wings, Castiel continued, “It’s…it’s a little odd. And I just wanted to apologize in advance if you find it too strange; it was awfully strange for me when I began working on it, but as I said, I couldn’t ignore the instinct.”

Seeing how worried Castiel was, Dean thought to reassure him. “Hey, whatever it is has gotta be cool, right? I mean, you made it for me, and you’re a pretty hardworking guy, so…”

Gathering his courage, Castiel affirmed, “Right, I have worked very hard on this. And whether or not you like it, just know that I did it, all of it, for you.”

Flashbacks to the beginning of season five flashed through my mind. I wondered if either of them even remembered that exact phrase and the history it entailed.

Whether Dean recognized the phrase or not didn’t really matter, because any lingering traces of sleepiness on his face melted into a sort of gooey, adoring look reserved solely for Castiel. Emboldened, Castiel took a deep breath, and gently opened the doors.

Light streamed in through the doorway, casting two shadows, one with wings and one without. I craned my neck to catch Dean’s initial reaction. He seemed…confused, yet entranced by the decoration within.

Castiel stood aside and motioned for Dean to enter the room. He obliged, carefully stepping through the doorway and examining each detail bit by bit. He roamed across the floor, tip-toeing over the leaves and feathers, hovering over the swirly patterns of shells on the dressers, and taking in the bookshelf’s varied contents from top to bottom. The more he saw, the more wonder it instilled in his eyes.

Eventually he reached the bed, his fingers grazing over the palm leaves propped against it. I tensed and wondered if Castiel would explode at his arrangement being disturbed, but the angel didn’t so much as stir, too anxious about Dean’s reaction.

_And besides,_ I realized, _this space isn’t just his; it belongs to both Castiel and Dean._

Lost in a daze of wonderment, Dean gently pulled on the bug netting, causing a tinkling as the shards of sea glass collided. “So this whole time, the secret you were keeping was…a decked-out cuddle den?”

“More than that,” Castiel warmly replied, joining Dean in the room. “It’s a nest.”

Freezing on the spot, Dean looked into Castiel’s eyes, awed and questioning.

“It’s another instinct,” Castiel rambled, uncertainty returning full-force. “Like the molting, only this one was all for you, and…”

Allowing Castiel to trail off, Dean swallowed and dared to ask, “You’re not, like…having a kid or something, right?”

Squinting, Castiel refuted, “No, Dean, that’s impossible. I am in a male vessel.”

“Right, right,” Dean agreed, laughing at himself. “Just makin’ sure, ‘cause I’m sure as hell not ready for a kid. Not that I’d _never_ want a…I mean, maybe way off in the _way-off_ distant future, uh…” He chuckled, realizing that now he was rambling. “So… a nest?”

Castiel’s feathers ruffled in undeniable pride. “Yes. I’ve done my utmost to pay attention to every detail I could.”

“You made a nest…for me.”

“For us,” Castiel amended.

Smiling in disbelief, Dean took a step closer to Castiel. “’Splains all the beachcombing, at least…”

“You can thank [Y/N] for that; she introduced me to it.”

I shrank somewhat at the mention of my name, although neither of them had the mind to look back at me.

“Wait, was she in on this the whole time?” Dean demanded. “That little stinker, she didn’t even tell me!”

“I had her sworn to secrecy,” Castiel defended my honor. “I couldn’t let you find out about our nest until it was perfect.”

“I mean…it is perfect,” Dean conceded, returning to admiring the décor. “You really didn’t skimp on the details…” He leaned over the bug netting. “Are those your feathers in the bed? Aw, hell yeah!”

Gazing at the floorboards, Castiel ventured, “…So, you like it?”

Dean’s head snapped up. “Like it? Cas, this is…I love it!”

All the tension drained from Castiel’s shoulders and wings. “That’s…I’m glad. I know it’s not exactly a typical human courting ritual, but…”

“It sure isn’t,” Dean huffed, still reeling from the sights around him. “That’s what makes it special, though. It ain’t human, but it sure is you.” Something faltered in Dean’s smile, and he rubbed self-consciously at the back of his neck. “I’m just…surprised you put all this effort in for me. You didn’t have to go through all this trouble, ya know.”

“Of course I did,” Castiel insisted. “My instincts wouldn’t have allowed it to happen any other way.”

“Yeah, but…” Dean’s bright expression withered further. “This is such a sweet, romantic gesture and all. I appreciate it, but…it almost feels like…it’s sorta a waste to spend it on me. I’m not really worth this much trouble.”

Silence hung in the air. A breeze wafted in through the nest’s open window, rattling the wooden necklace I’d donated to Castiel’s cause.

Castiel clenched a fist at his side. “Dean…I have said it many times, but the repetition doesn’t make this affirmation any less true: you are worthy, to me and so many others. And I intend to prove it to you.”

Before Dean could degrade himself any further, Castiel strode across the room towards the largest dresser. Reaching carefully so as not to disturb his arrangement, he grabbed the small, brown periwinkle shell that had started his initial obsession, silently gazed at it, and offered it to Dean.

Though bemused, Dean took the shell. He twirled it in his fingers, scrutinizing and suspicious.

“That shell is what first inspired me to build this nest,” Castiel explained. “When I first saw it, all I could think of was how the colors and shapes matched you so well.”

Dean snorted. “That’s a nice thought. Kinda a dingy little shell, though.”

“That’s exactly my point.”

Blinking in surprise, Dean turned his attention from the shell to his angel.

“This shell is one representation of you,” Castiel elaborated. “Small, with faded colors and worn edges. It has been tossed about and eroded by the harsh world of the ocean, and it has the scars to prove it; you may even notice that part of it has been chipped off.”

Checking the outermost edge of the shell’s spiral, Dean confirmed that yes, part of the shell had indeed been broken.

“In that sense, it does represent you: a man broken by the circumstances of his world and diminished to a mere shadow of what he could be.”

Raising an eyebrow, Dean remarked, “I thought this was supposed to make me feel better about myself.”

“It is.” Castiel returned to the dresser, plucking the shell’s larger counterpart from its surface. “I was just about to get to that.”

Though still confused and vaguely hurt, Dean took the second shell when Castiel handed it to him. This one was of the same variety as the other, though it was large enough to nearly fill his palm and had far brighter, more defined colors. Stripes of vibrant green covered the woody brown surface, and I inhaled when I realized where Castiel was going with this.

“This shell was found later,” Castiel continued. “The instant I laid eyes on it, that insistent instinct in my being surged up again. Its brown was just like the leather jacket you often wear, and its green came as close to matching your unmatchable eyes as anything I’d ever seen.”

Flushing and looking away slightly, Dean chuckled nervously.

_Hopeless bisexual disaster still doesn’t know how to respond to compliments from his boyfriend, more at eleven,_ I thought, actively resisting the urge to snicker.

“As you can see, this shell is what most would describe as ‘pretty.’” Castiel tapped into his shallow well of social cues and performed air quotes to drive his point home. “And it is…its colors are bright, its shape is unmarred, and it remains whole despite the perils of the ocean. Even in the areas where the elements have worn away its surface, it reveals a white, moonstone interior that only makes it more beautiful. The damages and challenges it has faced have made it all the more admirable.”

I leaned forward over the edge of the recliner, willing the conversation on. Castiel watched Dean perplexedly examine the shell for a few moments before getting to his point.

“That particular shell represents how others see you. The other represents how you see yourself.”

Dean’s mouth opened slightly as he glanced between the two shells. His mouth flattened into a thin line, as though he still didn’t fully buy it.

“I dunno, Cas,” he finally intoned. “Pretty big difference between ‘em, if you ask me. And I’m leaning way more toward the dingy side.”

“And so what if you do?”

That reply made Dean’s head snap up. Of all the things Castiel could have said, he hadn’t expected for a moment that the angel would agree with him.

Holding Dean’s gaze, Castiel said, “Humans are by their nature imperfect; most beings are, in some way. That includes you, me, and everyone else; even my father made mistakes. How one sees themselves or others doesn’t negate that.”

_Hmm…definitely an interesting angle,_ I thought, leaning further forward still. _How’s he gonna go in for the kill with this tactic?_

“But most of that is of nowhere near as much consequence as you hold it to,” Castiel insisted. “You have imperfections _and_ perfections. Both of those shells have beauty in their own right, and each instilled the same feelings in me. It doesn’t matter which one is a more accurate representation of you, or whether you’re a mix of both; you’re still a beautiful, radiant soul to me, and your self-perception or the perception of others won’t change that.”

Both me and Dean were stunned into awed silence. Castiel had knocked the ball out so far out of the park that I had to resist the urge to cheer like a rowdy baseball fan.

Swallowing and glancing off to the side, Dean murmured, “That’s…wow. Never really thought of it like that.”

Smiling, Castiel stepped forward and gingerly traced his fingers over Dean’s cheek. “You’re you, Dean. I know you down to the very core of your soul and all the good and bad within it, so trust me when I say that you are a wonderful, worthy man…my perfect imperfection.”

The two of them stared into each other’s eyes for several long, emotional moments. Castiel widened his smile, swiping his thumb along Dean’s jaw and cradling the side of his face to hearten him.

Eyes practically sparkling and mouth taking in gentle, awed breaths, Dean broke the silence with, “…Did you just steal a line from ‘All of Me?’”

Faltering, Castiel stammered, “U-um, I didn’t mean to. I don’t know what that is.”

Grinning with laughter, Dean explained, “You know, the song? The one that goes ‘cause all of me loves all of you?’”

“I don’t believe I’ve heard it.”

Dean waved a hand. “Ah, it’s cheesy anyway.” He smirked, his confidence regained. “But it’s true, ya know.”

Tilting his head, Castiel slowly withdrew his hand. “What is?”

“That all of me loves all of you; even when pop culture soars right over your head.” He snickered fondly. “Guess that’s one of your perfect imperfections.”

Breaking out into a smile of pure sunshine, Castiel leaned forward to press his forehead against Dean’s. “All of me loves all of you, too.”

“Even the fact that I snore like a rusty chainsaw sometimes?”

Withdrawing ever-so-slightly, Castiel reconsidered, “Well…”

Chuckling good-naturedly, Dean bumped his nose into Castiel’s and drew him back. “I’m kidding. But, seriously…thanks, Cas.”

Leaning even closer, Castiel stared right into Dean’s green peepers, inches from his own.

“For all of this,” Dean went on. “The nest and the shell analogy…it’s not gonna cure all my self-worth issues just like that, but it’s gonna help. _You’re_ gonna help…” He huffed a laugh. “Just knowing how you feel makes it that much easier.”

Still beaming, Castiel nodded, his emotions as clear as the Dominican sky.

“But…promise me something.”

Though Castiel’s guard flew up at that request, he nodded.

“If I’m gonna work on loving myself, you’ve gotta work on loving yourself, too. We’re in this together, for the long haul.”

Doubt immediately flickered over Castiel’s features, dampening their mood. Dean put a stop to that immediately.

“’Cause you ain’t perfect either, but you are worthy. I mean…look at all this,” Dean huffed, still in awe as he gazed about the room. “You took the time to make all of this for an imperfect wreck like me, even when I was bein’ a dick about it. Even if it was spurred by instincts of whatever, you worked on all of this with me in mind and without expecting anything in return. If that isn’t proof that you’re worthy…I don’t know what is.”

Appreciation shone in Castiel’s eyes, lifting his features once more. “…Thank you, Dean. I’ll try my best, I promise.” He sighed in contentment, wrapping his arms around Dean and nuzzling into his neck. “I love you.”

Smiling uncontrollably, Dean hugged Castiel back, keeping a careful grasp on the two shells. “Right back ‘atcha, angel.”

They stayed that way for several long, tender moments. I hadn’t stopped smiling once the entire time.

_Chuck dang it, you two,_ I jokingly complained. _Yer makin’ my cheeks hurt._

Eventually, Dean began chuckling into Castiel’s hair. The angel pulled back just enough to ask, “What?”

“Nothin’,” Dean replied. “I was just thinkin’, if there was an award for sappiest boyfriend, you’d be the reigning champ.”

_Little do you realize that you’d run a steep competition against him,_ I thought, and the combined force of that statement and my bounding joy forced a squeak of laughter out of my throat.

Dean and Castiel’s sight fell on me immediately, and I tensed. An awkward, toothy grin was all I could muster through the heat of embarrassment on my face.

“…Forgot she was even there,” Dean muttered, shaking his head and separating from Castiel. “Get over here, you little stalker.”

Though there was no anger in Dean’s voice, I still took my time to hop off the recliner and reach the nest’s doorway. Dean crossed his arms and tutted.

“You knew about this the entire time,” he chided, “and you didn’t tell me anything. Never thought I’d see the day you were in cahoots with Cas.”

“Like he said, sworn to secrecy,” I defended. “Besides, it was worth it for the look on your face when you first saw it.”

“…Lil’ stinker,” Dean teased, reaching over to ruffle my hair. I batted his hand away, but couldn’t help the laughter that inevitably resulted.

Combing a hand through my unkempt hair, I asked, “Whatever happened to little miss intuitive? I liked that nickname better.”

“Oh, you’re still intuitive alright,” Dean agreed. “But you’ve always been a little bit of a stinker, too.”

“I mean, you’ve got me there. I _am_ like your annoying kid sister.”

“You _are_ my annoying kid sister,” he corrected. “And you’re still livin’ up to it, too.”

It took every force of will in my being not to leap up and attack-hug Dean. Instead, I mustered the brightest smile my sore cheeks could take.

“Who’s living up to what?” a sleepy, interrupting moose asked. Said moose came up beside me and stopped short of the doorway, eyes going wide. “Woah.”

Perking up at his brother’s arrival, Dean gushed, “Hey, Sammy, look at this! Cas made all this!”

“I helped!” I objected, but Sam was too busy to listen, wiping the sleep from his eyes to ensure what he saw was reality.

Looking like a giddy kid showing off his freshly-cleaned room, Dean maneuvered deeper into the nest, gesturing wildly to its contents. “Look, he’s got shells, coral, feathers—even friggin’ herbs in the back, so it smells nice!” He smugly crossed his arms. “Do I have the best boyfriend ever, or what?”

Now fully awake, Sam absently nodded. “Yeah, this is…this is really something.” He paused. “Uh, what is it, exactly? A cuddle den, or…?”

“A nest,” Dean proudly corrected.

Though momentarily surprised, Sam couldn’t resist teasing his brother. “Aw, you’re finally settling down. Never thought I’d see the day.”

“I’m not settled down!” Dean denied. “This is just a…just a…retreat!” Dean settled on, stepping forward to take his place beside Castiel. “Right, Cas?”

“That’s what I had in mind, yes,” Castiel confirmed.

“Right, so just a retreat,” Dean reaffirmed.

Huffing with laughter, Sam conceded, “Whatever you say…you ready to execute [Y/N]’s plan?”

“Oh, right!” Dean remembered. “Uh…gimme a minute, I gotta get dressed.”

“No rush,” Sam calmed. “I gotta walk Watts first anyway. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

On that note, Sam left and went next door into his room, and I could hear Wattson cheerily yapping to greet him.

“May as well move our stuff back up here,” Dean muttered to himself as he surveyed the room. “Since, uh…I assume we’re staying in here from now on?”

Feathers happily rustling, Castiel nodded. “That’s what I was hoping to do.”

“’Kay, let’s get settled into our nest, then.”

Merely Dean’s use of the phrase “our nest” made Castiel’s wings shudder and lift somewhat. Whatever potential outcomes he’d feared prior, Dean’s actual reaction delighted him all the way to the tips of his feathers.

Refocusing on the day’s logistics, I realized, “Oh! I should probably tell Silvan our plans. Where is he, Cas?”

Frowning, Castiel replied, “I haven’t seen him since I left this morning. As far as I know, he’s still asleep downstairs.”

Concern creased Dean’s features. “That’s…kinda weird. Isn’t he usually the first one up?”

Clearing my throat awkwardly, I piped up, “Actually, I uh…sort of saw him and Danny going downstairs last night, so….”

Understanding dawned on both of my companion’s faces.

“So he’s a little busy…got it,” Dean mumbled, taking Castiel by the hand and leading him towards the stairs. “If we see him, I’ll let you know.”

Silently nodding my thanks, I let them get on with moving back into their master bedroom. Seeing as I was basically already prepared for the day ahead, I returned to gazing over the edge of the balcony at the beautiful blue I called home. I caught sight of Sam descending the beach trail, an eager Wattson trotting ahead of him, and was aware of Dean and Castiel bringing their bags upstairs at some point. Yet the only commotion I concerned myself with was the ocean’s empowering swells and crashes.

Footsteps creaked on the deck below after a while, and I peered further over the railing to see who it was. Hesitantly advancing from the basement stairwell was Silvan, still dressed in last night’s clothes and shielding his eyes from the sunlight. Danny emerged shortly thereafter, his hair a tousled mess. Unencumbered by the morning sun’s beams, he crossed the deck and snaked his arms around Silvan from behind, catching him off-guard but undoubtedly pleasing him.

I gave them a few moments to enjoy each other’s company before descending the stairs. They were rather wrapped up in each other (literally), so I gently cleared my throat once I was near enough.

Silvan jumped like a cat confronted with a cucumber. When he saw it was just me, he only calmed down a little.

“[Y-Y/N],” he sighed, catching his breath. “I’m so sorry, I was going to get up but—you probably want breakfast, I didn’t mean to sleep in so late, I-”

“Nah, you meant to sleep in,” Danny amended, leaning forward to rest his head on Silvan’s shoulder. “You woke up an hour ago but didn’t want to leave me.”

Too flustered to deny it, Silvan just sighed and cast his eyes towards the floor. “I really am sorry. It’s my job to look after the villa and its guests, you should not have to deal with that.”

I shrugged. “Eh, no biggie. We all kinda slept in. My friends and I actually had plans for today already, so…” I snapped my fingers. “You know what, you should take the day off!”

The reaction that got from Silvan was more what I would have expected from someone who I’d just asked to kill a person. “No, I-I couldn’t,” Silvan denied.

“It would be the perfect chance to take a much-needed break,” Danny encouraged, playfully poking at the side of his head.

Though still uncertain, Silvan glanced back and forth between me and Danny, and eventually his shoulders slumped. “I…actually could do with a break. As for whether I should take a break, I probably should not, but if you and your friends are sure you’ll be okay for the day…”

“We will!” I assured. “You’ve been working yourself way too hard since we got here. Take some time for yourself!” Unable to help myself, I sneakily added, “And Danny, of course.”

Smirking giddily, Danny lightly elbowed Silvan in the ribs. “You hear that? Even the guests want you to take some time for yourself. And me, if you want,” he quickly added with a waggle of his eyebrows.

Relaxing and realizing he was going to take a short break whether he wanted to or not, Silvan chuckled as warmly as the morning sun. “And you, of course. Unless you have work you need to get to.”

“Not until later,” Danny dismissed. “No river tours scheduled until the afternoon.”

“Good.” Turning back to me, Silvan affirmed, “Still, if you need anything-”

“She can handle herself,” Danny interrupted. “She looks tough.”

_You’d be surprised,_ I wanted to say, but Danny kept going.

“And besides, she’s got those three dreamboats to back her up if she needs it.”

Rolling his eyes, Silvan murmured, “I was wondering when you were going to acknowledge their good looks.”

“Ah, I noticed them a long time ago,” Danny quipped. “Just been more interested in keeping my eyes on you.”

Flushing and half-hiding his face behind his hand, Silvan shook with laughter. Danny joined in, and I decided to leave them be. They really did need a day off together.

As for me and my friends, we had work to do. Our quartet assembled on the second floor just outside of Dean and Castiel’s nest (I could still barely believe I could call it that) once Dean was dressed in day clothes and Sam returned with Wattson. I’d had enough time to eat the few remaining wafer cookies from yesterday, which made for a scant and non-nutritional breakfast, but a breakfast all the same.

“We all remember the plan?” Sam checked, gathering us into an impromptu huddle.

“Yup,” Dean replied. “I’m on house duty, you’re on the Geek Squad, and [Y/N] n’ Cas are playing weed control.”

Stifling a snicker, I agreed, “Yeah, that’s pretty much it. It may not be a whole lot, but we’ll work for as long as we can.”

Nodding and spreading his wings, Castiel said, “If we’re all ready, I can teleport each of us to our designated locations.”

Dean lifted a hand. “I’ll go first. Just drop me off somewhere I can blend in and sneak onto a building crew.”

Bowing slightly and placing a hand on Dean’s shoulder, Castiel replied, “I’ll try,” and the two of them disappeared in a whoosh of wind.

While Sam and I waited for our turns, Wattson trotted out from the study and seated himself firmly beside Sam’s feet, his tail lazily wagging and mouth agape and panting. Sam frowned down at the puppy, but he couldn’t help caving to the sheer cuteness and scooped him up in his arms.

_Your own best weapon turned against you: puppy dog eyes,_ I thought.

“You bringing him with you?” I asked, reaching out to stroke Wattson’s back.

“I may as well,” Sam conceded. “He’s pretty well-behaved for a stray…you’ll be good, won’t you Watts? Just don’t chew on any of the power chords or wires and we’ll be fine…”

Castiel chose that exact moment to reappear with a stirring gust. He tilted his head as he watched Sam coo over Wattson, but a smile broke out on his face before long.

“Are you and Wattson ready?” he asked, smiling down at the pooch.

Before Sam could answer, Wattson uttered what could only be an affirmative yap. Though briefly startled, Sam nodded, and he and Castiel were off in the blink of an eye.

It didn’t take terribly long for Castiel to return, although I had just enough time to peek over the railing and ensure neither Danny nor Silvan had seen any of the rampant teleporting transpiring upstairs. Both of them were seated in armchairs on the pool deck, hands interlaced between them while they relaxed. Satisfied that they truly would enjoy a brief vacation, I spun around to face Castiel at the first sound of flapping feathers.

“Vine duty awaits,” I declared, performing a theatrical bow.

Not sure how to respond, Castiel just awkwardly nodded and put a hand on my shoulder. One reality-warping experience later, I was hit with a wave of direct tropical sunlight and deliciously humid air. I took in my surroundings, which mostly consisted of open, sparse canopy in a green valley. One of those patented Dominican roads wound along the outskirts of one of the encompassing mountains, spiraling so high that it disappeared into the foggy underside of a cloud.

The sun beat down harshly on the open land here, and with so few trees left standing, it was bound to induce a sweat. Good thing I’d picked out light clothing in preparation for the day ahead…

“This is the largest concentration of vines I could find,” Castiel explained, traipsing over loose foliage. “It used to be ideal land for farming bananas, but the vines have made replanting impossible.”

Impressed, I wondered, “When did you have the time to do all this research?”

“This morning,” he easily replied. “Beachcombing isn’t the only early morning activity I partake in. This island has so many beautiful sites that…I sometimes traverse them on my own.”

Taking this in, I took my first steps across the land. Immediately, I found my feet tangled in a net of roots and vines, which covered the entirety of the landscape for as far as I could see. The few plants that managed to grow among the all-consuming weeds were weak and blocked from light, withering under the unfair shade cast by their voluminous competitors.

Castiel leaned down to assess the root system for weak points. “Well then, let’s get down to business…”

On impulse, I sang, “To defeat…the Huns!”

Scrunching up his face in confusion, Castiel squinted up at me through the sunlight. A laugh seized me, causing me to double over briefly.

“We’re not fighting…Huns,” Castiel clarified. “We’re fighting vines.”

“My mistake,” I joked, not bothering to explain the reference. “Let’s get down to business, to defeat…the _vines_!”

Though he still obviously didn’t understand, Castiel’s mouth twitched ever-so-slightly upwards before he resumed peering under the low canopy of vines. I joined him, unconsciously humming “Make a Man out of You” under my breath and pulling a few isolated weeds along the way.

After a minute of studying the plants, Castiel rose up to his full height. Flexing his fingers, he methodically grabbed ahold of two specific points on a couple particularly large vines. Several hefty tugs and flaps of his wings later, row after row of the vines popped loose in the dirt. I couldn’t help myself; I applauded the show of angelic strength.

…Until the uprooted vines were passed squarely into my hands. I flinched a little on instinct—I could scarcely stand the sensation of wet dirt on my skin—but I wanted to help in whatever way I could, so I rolled up the vines as neatly as possible into a lopsided bale and set it aside on one of the few clear patches of ground.

By the time I’d accomplished that, Castiel was already uprooting another swath of vines, tearing it loose from the ground like a massive blanket. I, once again, had to fold that unwieldy blanket, but it was a little easier the second time. Then it was easier the third time, then the fourth time, and then the fifth time. We were making spectacular progress, and in the process turning over damp, nutrient rich soil perfect for agriculture.

Before long, we’d cleared a considerable patch of land. The vanquished vines were starting to pile up, forming a slowly-ascending mountain of green strands and leaves. After about the tenth root-pulling, Castiel paused his efforts and assessed the leftover foliage.

“What should we…do with it?” I asked, honestly intimidated by the mass. I could all too easily picture it gaining sentience and avenging its fallen vine brethren.

“I was planning to incinerate the remnants,” Castiel admitted. “Although I’m not sure where we would put the resulting ash.”

“…Fertilizer?” I suggested, shrugging.

“That could work, yes…”

Scratching absently at his chin, Castiel reached out to press a palm to the vine mountain. His wings flexed slightly, followed by a surge of yellow angelic light from his hand. Before I could think to shield myself, the vines erupted into a blazing wave that dissipated nearly as soon as it appeared. In its wake, it left a shrunken, shriveled conglomeration of twisted, ashy leaves.

Blinking dumbly and wiping at my eyes, I commented, “That was…efficient. Maybe a little warning next time, though?”

Shrinking back slightly, Castiel apologized. “Sorry, I was wrapped up in my thoughts. I’ll give you fair warning next time.”

With that, he gathered up a portion of the scorched plants and began strewing them over the bare ground. Getting the idea, I joined him, spreading out the crumbling leaves over the soil and relishing in the satisfactory crackling sounds they produced. Through our combined efforts, we reduced the pile down to a trembly little ball of tightly-wound weeds. Castiel took the ball in his hands, but there was practically no space left over which to spread it.

“Don’t wanna over-fertilize,” I pointed out. “Not that I’m a farming expert, but…I’m pretty sure that’s a thing.”

“It is,” Castiel confirmed. “We may as well toss this somewhere to decompose.”

Surveying the surrounding areas, Castiel noticed a gradual slope near the edge of the field. Below it was a sunbaked pasture with a few goats nibbling on the grass.

Just as Castiel was hefting the ball of dead vines over his shoulder and preparing to hurl it, an impulsive idea leapt forth from the most garbage-ridden part of my brain.

“Wait!” I yelled. “Before you throw that…I just need you to do one thing for me. Please.”

Lowering the plant ball, Castiel replied with the utmost seriousness, “Of course, what is it?”

Fighting a smile, I answered, “I need you to say ‘yeet’ when you toss that thing over the edge.”

Castiel stared at me, lacking any and all comprehension.

“It’s a word we use in my world,” I explained. “You exclaim it when you throw something. Or just whenever you want, I guess.”

“…Alright…” Castiel slowly intoned. Uncertainly turning back to the ledge and holding the vines up high, he proclaimed, “Um…y-yeet,” and awkwardly tossed the ball down the slope. It bounced cumbersomely for a few moments before unravelling and spreading across the pasture. The goats were on it in seconds, chewing every bit of the cooked greens they could at once.

Barely able to contain my laughter, I cheered, “Heck yes! I just got Castiel say yeet!”

Though he still failed to understand any facet of what I was talking about, Castiel seemed to recognize that this “yeet” business made me happy, so he smiled along with me.

The next hour or so became a cycle of weed pulling, burning, and yeeting. Castiel was quick to learn that even the mere mention of that term sent me into a fit of giggles, so he began using it each and every time he threw our makeshift fertilizer around. It wasn’t just the word that made me laugh, though; no, it was the monotone, misinformed way Castiel kept saying it that utterly killed me.

“Yeet,” Castiel stated, haphazardly throwing a final bundle of burnt leaves over the earth.

I burst into involuntary chuckles for the umpteenth time. “Gah, I need to show you some more Vines and see if I can teach you to quote those, too.”

Staring blankly at the swarm of plants at our feet, Castiel said, “You mean…you want to seek out more vines? We already have a lot of work to do here-”

“No, no!” I refuted. “Vines with a capital V, it’s an internet thing. If I had wi-fi, I could show you…”

Instead, I settled for spending roughly the next hour describing the most iconic Vines I could recall to my angel friend. He didn’t understand most of them (like, at all), but he was willing to humor me and hear out my ridiculous explanations. Right as I was in the middle of deconstructing what made a video of a guy walking into a bathroom and saying “hi welcome to Chile’s” such a hoot, Castiel paused in his uprooting efforts.

Squarely turning to face me, Castiel squinted. “You’re overheating.”

“I am?” I asked, genuinely not sure. “I don’t always notice, but…now that you mention it, the sun is really hot-”

“Wait here.”

Without explanation, Castiel flapped his wings and disappeared. It kicked up a glorious slight breeze, and only then did I realize that yeah, the afternoon sun really was starting to take a toll on me. In the few minutes it took Castiel to return, I grappled with the vines as best as I could, pulling out the smaller ones that would succumb to my human strength.

One stirring of wind later, and a familiar hand was extending a water bottle in front of my face. I took it without thinking, unscrewing the cap and taking several long drinks. I really had been overheating…

“That should help,” Castiel reassured, immediately returning to his uprooting duties.

“Thanks,” I choked out after inhaling all the water my throat could take. “I really need to pay better attention to my thirst.”

“You really ought to,” Castiel solemnly agreed. “Dehydration takes a toll on the human body.” He shook his head in vague disapproval as he tore loose another segment of roots. “Sometimes, humans seem to have such a hard time looking after themselves. Sam and Dean were dehydrated as well when I checked on them.”

“Oh, you checked on them?” I perked up. “How’re they doing?”

“Aside from not consuming enough fluids, they’re fine. Most of the personnel at the local communication hub are too enamored with Wattson to even notice Sam working, and Dean has already made friends with practically the entire Calibishie building crew.”

Smirking, I teased, “Do I detect a note of jealously?”

“No,” Castiel grumbled. “I’m very secure in my relationship with Dean. But…I will admit, I’m somewhat envious of all the people with Wattson’s undivided attention.”

“You and me both,” I sympathized.

Now that I was thoroughly rehydrated, I used an extra burst of energy to pull and fold up as many weeds as I possibly could. Castiel still did the bulk of the weed-exterminating, but it was hardly a fair contest; the guy had super angelic strength and a massive pair of wings for extra leverage. Through our combined efforts, we spent a solid four hours clearing land. By the time I’d nearly exhausted myself, we’d cleared roughly three-quarters of the valley and Castiel was ever-so-slightly more literate in meme culture.

“Good grief, that’s a lotta weeds,” I heaved, panting in the unforgiving sun.

“Yes, but we’ve made tremendous progress,” Castiel encouraged. He faltered for a moment, and recalling one of the numerous topics of conversation I’d used to pass the time, asked, “Would…the number of weeds we’ve uprooted amount to an ‘absolute unit?’”

Bursting with praise at his application of the term, I replied, “Absolutely.”

An uncertain, twitchy smile appeared on Castiel’s face. “Did I use that term correctly?”

“Yes, yes you did,” I commended. “Before long, I’ll have made you the first ever meme-literate angel. If this is to be my legacy, so be it…”

Castiel didn’t reply. He stared out over the remaining patch of vines that bounced in a momentary breeze funneled between the mountains. As unreadable as ever, I waved a hand in front of his face, chuckling at his sudden bout of spacing out.

“Hello?” I sang. “Earth to Castiel, there’s more plant vines to be vanquished and more internet Vines to be taught.”

“They’re here,” Castiel murmured, squinting into empty space.

I blinked. “Huh?”

Castiel finally turned to look me in the eye. Fear roiled in my stomach when I saw how terrified he looked.

“Raziel. He and my brethren are here, I sense it.”

A disbelieving breath rushed past my lips. No, no, no, this couldn’t be. Not so suddenly.

“Are you serious?” I managed, breath picking up rapidly.

“They must have somehow figured out where we were and followed us,” Castiel said, trying and largely failing to project calm. “I didn’t think they could—they must have found a precise spell to come here, I—”

A new look of horror distorted his features as he realized something else. “Sam and Dean…I have to get to them.”

Without warning, Castiel grasped my shoulder and flapped his wings hard. The growing sickness in my stomach worsened as we teleported, and I nearly fell sideways when we reappeared on the Villa’s balcony.

“Stay here,” Castiel instructed, and with one frantic wave of his wings, he was gone.

Breathing fast and heavy, I stood frozen. Anxiety surged under my skin, clawing in a bid to break out, but I couldn’t let it; no, I had to stay grounded, had to focus.

_It’s okay,_ I shakily reassured myself, even though it really wasn’t. _You have to stay calm, for them._

That thought strengthened my resolve just enough to thaw my legs. I stumbled as carefully as I could across the balcony, unsure of where or why I was going but knowing that I just needed to move.

_For them, for them, for them,_ I repeated, a grounding mantra that blocked out all other thoughts and powered my every step. This was happening too fast, too much at once. It barely felt like it could be real.

_For them._

My feet carried me towards the precipice of the stairs, but only when I grasped the railing in an unsteady hand did I dare attempt to descend. It was slower going than before, each slat of wood clunking underfoot as I sidestepped downwards. My heart just about stopped when I heard someone else ascending the stairs ahead of me.

Half-expecting to be stabbed by an angel blade then and there, I couldn’t help but groan in relief when I saw it was just Silvan.

Starting with surprise, Silvan greeted, “[Y/N]! I didn’t hear you come back. You and your friends have been gone a while—”

“S-s-silvan,” I sputtered. “Please just—oh god…”

Face falling, Silvan ascended the remaining steps between us. “Whoa, are you alright?”

“No,” I managed. “There’s a—they’re going to—”

“Here,” Silvan said, guiding me down the stairs and towards the pool deck. I fought the whole way to still my trembling limbs, but I only succeeded in concentrating the fear into my core. But I had to stay calm, I had to.

_For them for them for them,_ I chanted under my breath.

Growing more concerned with each second, Silvan pushed me down to sit on one of the recliners outside the kitchen. He regarded me with confusion and a hint of definite fear. I was scaring him.

That realization was enough to overpower the forces suppressing my reason. Though I twitched and tremored with fear, I gathered my thoughts. I had to try and explain myself to Silvan. And since he was here…

Oh god. He was just as much at risk as the rest of us.

“Oh no, no, no,” I muttered, bordering on delirious.

Eyeing me warily, Silvan asked, “What’s going on?”

“You…you won’t believe me,” I replied, dejected.

Though still shaken, Silvan calmly said, “Tell me anyway.” To himself, he added, “I knew I shouldn’t have taken a break…”

“This isn’t about the break,” I insisted, scooping together what I could of my wits. “Listen, just—where’s Danny?”

“He left for work nearly an hour ago,” Silvan answered.

“Okay, okay,” I muttered, struggling to reign in my whirlpooling thoughts. “Cas’ll be back soon, and—and then we can get out of here—we’ll be okay—”

Face scrunching up in frustration, Silvan pleaded, “Please, just tell me what’s going on! You’re worrying me!”

Taking a breath so deep I thought my lungs may explode, I forcefully shook my entire body. There wasn’t any easy way to explain this situation, but…

“Listen, my friends and I,” I gushed, “we’ve been hiding from some—some of Cas’s family, and they pretty much want us dead—

“ _What_?” Silvan interjected, but I couldn’t afford to stop speaking and lose my momentum.

“—They’ve figured out where we are, and they’re gonna come here and—and…” The momentum whooshed out of me, dissipating into the background noise of the ocean. I could only manage one final thought: “We have to get out of here.”

Utterly dumbfounded, Silvan gaped at me. I shrugged weakly.

“You…you have to get out of here, too,” I added. “The angels are after us, b-but if you’re with us too, then—”

A whole new kind of incredulous overtook Silvan. “Wha—angels?! Are you having a delusional episode or something?”

“N-no, I—” I protested, but knew I could say nothing to convince him. Panic battled to overtake me once more, but I fought it back with every fiber of my being.

Holding up his hands, Silvan backed away. “I…think you need some help. I’m going to contact Vanessa so she can come look over you—”

“No!” I objected, rising to my feet. “Don’t bring her here, she’s one of the vessels—I don’t know if—”

Now firmly decided, Silvan pulled his phone from the pocket of his shorts, wasting no time in tapping out a message. I watched helplessly as he turned and started walking away, realizing that I was doing nothing to help my case.

A sudden stirring of wind hit my face and drew me back to my senses somewhat. Silvan froze, standing stiff as a brick wall. Beyond him near the hammock, Castiel had materialized alongside Sam and Dean.

Mouth opening and closing like a fish, Silvan’s phone slipped from his fingers and bounced against the floor. “How did—where did you—”

The Winchesters were stone-faced on arrival, but Sam softened upon noticing Silvan. He and Dean shared a silent look, and Sam eventually set off upstairs, Wattson cradled protectively in his arms. Dean took on explanation duty, approaching a flabbergasted Silvan and extending one hand to rest on his shoulder.

“We’re a little short on time,” Dean began, “so here are the cliff-notes: Cas is an angel, my brother and I hunt monsters, and [Y/N] brought us here from another world. Also, a battalion of pissed-off angels is gonna be on our asses any second now, so grab what you can, find one of us, and don’t leave our side. Got it?”

Behind them, Castiel scanned his surroundings, and with one heave of his wings, teleported upstairs. Too shocked to make any noise, Silvan just numbly nodded.

Patting Silvan on the shoulder and sending him on his way, Dean maneuvered around him to check up on me. “You alright, kiddo?”

“Yes,” I lied, drawing reassurance from the reappearance of Team Free Will. “Wh-what can I do to help?”

“Stay safe,” Dean replied. “Get what you need and be ready to leave.”

Nodding, I frightfully asked, “How…how can we stay away from them? Won’t they just follow us?”

Dean managed a smile, but I’d examined his facial expressions enough on TV to know that he wasn’t sure, either. “We’ll figure it out.”

Mirroring his weak smile as best as I could, I forced myself to ignore the quaking instincts in my gut and followed Dean upstairs. I wasted no time in shoving any and all of my belongings into my bag upon reaching my room, and in less than a minute, all of it was slung securely over my shoulder.

Sam was waiting in the study, zipping his travel bag shut and leaving it at the ready. Wattson sat curled up beside it, his head and tail down as though he could sense something was wrong. Silvan came upstairs shortly after, nervously flitting his gaze about and carrying a single duffel bag.

Though he still eyed us with obvious disbelief, Silvan asked, “Is…this real? There is no way this is happening.”

A small, apologetic smile creased Sam’s mouth. “Sorry, it’s…it’s real. We usually have more time to ease people into the supernatural, but…”

Dean came barging into the room then, dropping his own bag on one of the beds. He unceremoniously unzipped it and pulled two shining, silver angel blades from its depths, grasping one for himself and tossing the other to Sam, who caught it with expert precision.

Silvan recoiled at the abrupt introduction of weapons into the equation. “Are—are those swords?”

“Angel blades,” Dean corrected. “Our best defense against the god squad. Speakin’ of which, where’s Cas? We need to hurry it up.”

“I think he’s next door,” Sam supplied, nodding towards the adjacent master bedroom.

Repressing a gasp, I whispered, “The nest…”

Regret clouded Dean’s features as he reached the same conclusion I had: we were going to have to leave their nest behind.

Steeling himself, Dean grabbed his bag and headed next door. Sam, Silvan and I waited in tense silence. Silvan kept eyeing the blade in Sam’s hand as though Sam might attack with it at any second, and after so much otherworldly information had been thrown into his lap at once, I didn’t entirely blame him.

“We can’t!” Dean’s voice echoed through the walls, making everyone jump. Wattson leaped off the bed and scurried underneath it, thoroughly frightened by the yell.

The three of us exchanged glances. No one seemed willing to move, even less so when Dean’s voice rose again to say, “I know, Cas, but we don’t have time.”

Feeling restless and useless, I let my bag slip off my shoulder and marched outside. I surprised myself with how quickly I resolved to intervene. Was it a reckless burst of adrenaline? Winggirl instincts? Who knows? All I knew was that the sound of a loud, stressed tone permeating the walls reminded me far too much of home for my own comfort.

Dean and Castiel were standing opposite each other in the nest when I reached the doorway. The latter’s wings were curved and spread high as though attempting to encircle the entire room. Dean watched him with exasperation, and the two of them seemed too caught up in whatever was going on to notice my arrival.

Bristling with an inner conflict, Castiel frowned. “I…can’t leave the nest unguarded like this. My instincts won’t let me.”

“We have to go!” Dean insisted. “I don’t wanna leave it either, but we don’t have time.”

“Logically, I know that,” Castiel countered, frozen in self-directed frustration. “But I feel…that I can’t—they’ll defile our nest if I leave it—”

“They’ll defile a lot more than that if we don’t hurry the hell up!” Dean’s patience was visibly wearing thin. “Just suck it up and teleport us somewhere. Anywhere, take your pick!”

“And then what?” Castiel demanded. “Raziel will continue to follow us wherever we go, and as [Y/N] is powerless, we’re trapped in this world.”

I flinched. Even though I had no direct fault in losing my powers, I felt blame regardless.

“We packed stuff to fight him, see?” Dean’s bag slipped off his shoulders, and he held it out for the angel to take. “If we have time to regroup, we can prepare—we’ll be okay.”

Castiel took the bag. He stared at it for several moments, still fighting with himself, before dejectedly tossing it into the corner.

Dean held his hands high in growing aggravation. “What the hell, Cas? Just—just forget your instincts, we gotta go!”

A pained expression appeared on Castiel’s features. “I can’t. I want to, but I…can’t.”

Nearly growling, Dean marched forward and grabbed Castiel by the wrist. I flinched back.

“Dammit, just come on!” Dean ground out. “You’d really put all of us at risk over one stinkin’ nest?”

Though he shrunk back slightly and yanked his arm away, Castiel stared forward defiantly. “I wouldn’t. How could you think that?”

“Because that’s exactly what you’re doing!”

“Leave me here.” Castiel stepped forward and extended a hand towards Dean. “I’ll teleport the rest of you to safety.”

Dean flinched away. “Absolutely not! We need you with us, we don’t stand a chance without you! I am _not_ leaving you to get torn to shreds!”

As their voices rose, a different breed of panic made itself known in my chest. This one wasn’t born from the threat of angels, but from a deep-seated instinct I’d acquired over a year prior and been trying to outrun ever since.

_They’re fighting,_ echoed a thought in my mind. _They’re yelling and they’re fighting, and somehow, it’s all your fault._

“No,” I croaked, clinging to my fleeting logic. “Please, stop!” I interjected, using the force of my fear to power my voice.

Both of them did stop, glancing at me in surprise. I barely realized that I’d spoken until their eyes locked on me, and it took everything in me not to bolt. Even Sam had stuck his head out from the study to see what was going on by then, watching the scene with helpless concern.

Something stirred in the breeze. For a heart-wrenching moment, I thought Castiel had teleported away, but he remained steadfastly posted in his nest. My heart’s condition in that moment hardly mattered, however, as it nearly stopped altogether as a new voice chipped in from the farthest edge of the balcony.

“Save yourselves the grief,” Raziel greeted. “Whether you stay here or not, we’ll just find you again.”

Though I wanted more than anything to run, I forced myself to twitch around and shift away from the voice’s source. Raziel stood tall and imposing, his darkened, yellow wings held high and proud. The sun just barely shone through them, and he cast a menacing shadow over the wood of the second floor.

When none of us said anything, Raziel sighed and leisurely stepped nearer. “It’s odd that we should find you here. I’ve always believed in destiny, but these circumstances nearly transcend that altogether.”

“How did you find us?” Castiel growled, undaunted.

One of Raziel’s eyebrows quirked in mild interest. His eyes found mine, and I flinched back farther.

“You can thank her for that.” He sneered. “It would have required much more effort if her ribs were carved up like the other two. Quite an oversight on your part.”

My hand instinctively clutched at the middle of my ribcage. I wouldn’t have wanted sigils inscribed on my ribs in the first place, but if it would have kept the angels away…

Castiel glanced at me apologetically; for what, I wasn’t sure. It wasn’t his fault, though he likely assumed that it was.

Shrugging and crossing his vessel’s arms, Raziel continued, “Aside from that, all it required was precise tracking magic, a spell for interdimensional travel, and much trial and error.” His mouth twisted in disgust as he regarded Dean and Castiel. “I was surprised by the lack of indecent coupling activities between you two. That would have made our task all the easier.”

“Yeah, you’re welcome,” Dean snarked. “Unlike you, we’re actually capable of keeping out of people’s business and respecting their privacy.”

Expression darkening, Raziel took another step towards the nest. “You forfeited the right to privacy when you consented to an act against one of heaven’s highest orders.”

Something glinted in a stray ray of light within the nest. I caught a mere glimpse of a pinpointed reflection on Dean’s angel blade, which he gripped tightly behind him just out of sight.

“One of heaven’s highest orders, eh?” Dean baited. “We kinda already started and stopped the apocalypse. Nowhere to go but down from there.”

Wings ruffling in discontent, Raziel replied, “You should be held accountable for that as well. In fact, I intend to use it as further fodder against you.”

The two of them glared at each other, wrapped in a tense standoff. I could barely breathe, pressing myself further and further back until I collided with the upper floor’s outermost railing. Sam still peered out from the study, radiating fear for his brother and anger at the one threatening him.

Something bumped around in the study, and a moment later Sam leaned out a hair further to give Silvan space to take in the scene. The hunter kept an arm propped in the narrow doorway, preventing Silvan from going any farther.

As I expected, Silvan’s eyes widened. What I didn’t expect was for his mouth to fall open in awe. Staring at Raziel, he murmured a single, disbelieving word.

“Andon?”

Everyone’s heads turned to him. Sam regarded him with confusion, which was just enough for Silvan to duck underneath the moose’s wall of an arm and stumble out onto the balcony. Raziel stared back at him, betraying nothing.

Silvan’s hand rose, fingers twitching, but he dared not reach out. His mouth quivered as his voice failed him.

“Silvan Fontaine,” Raziel addressed, breaking the silence. “It’s been a while since I last saw you.”

Swallowing thickly, Silvan stuttered, “Y-you’re dead—how are you…?”

Raziel’s lips pursed as he took in this information. “Hmm…so Andon Fontaine is deceased in this world. Another ironic twist of fate.”

Eyes misting over, Silvan took a few shaky steps towards Raziel—his _brother_ —but Sam practically leaped from the study to stop him. 

“Silvan, no!” Sam yelled, yanking Silvan by the shoulder and trying to wrestle the caretaker behind him before he could get hurt.

Fighting against Sam’s hold, Silvan insisted, “Let me go! That’s my brother!”

“Not anymore!” Sam countered. “He’s possessed by an angel—he’s a vessel!”

“Let me _go_!” Silvan repeated, wriggling in Sam’s grasp.

“Listen to Sam, Silvan,” Raziel intervened, surprising everyone.

Though he slowed his efforts, Silvan’s desperation hadn’t died down in the slightest. He took several calming breaths before addressing Raziel again.

“Andon…you’re alive,” Silvan wheezed, shaking with irrational laughter. “I-I don’t know how, but you’re alive! This is a goddamned miracle!”

Raziel offered him a fake, piteous smile. “I’m not Andon. My name is Raziel, and your brother is my vessel.” Sternness flooded over his demeanor all at once. “I would recommend that you flee this scene at your nearest convenience if you wish to survive this encounter.”

The abounding hope in Silvan flickered for a moment, but was relit just as fast. “You’re…if you’re an angel possessing him, he’s still in there somewhere, right?”

“Yes, he lives,” Raziel replied, tiring of the conversation. “But he isn’t here right now, and he isn’t returning anytime soon; _I’m_ here to finish what I started.” He paused, slightly smirking to himself. “He is struggling very hard right now, though,” he calmly informed us. He turned to stare down Silvan once more. “Probably because he saw me kill you with his own hands.”

Dread prickled in the pit of my stomach. From the way Silvan finally shrunk back from his “brother,” it was safe to assume he felt much the same.

“As I said, you should leave,” Raziel reiterated. “I wouldn’t hesitate to do it a second time.”

I would have agreed with him, except that I knew Silvan couldn’t possibly leave when his brother was inexplicably back right in front of him. Like he’d said, once you had a taste of a family, that wasn’t something you would ever want to let go of.

And indeed Silvan did stand his ground, still semi-restrained by Sam but more so by his own paralyzing indecision. Everyone else was bristling with equal measures of anger, unease, and a readiness to fight. Of all of us, Dean appeared the most incensed.

“So not only did you possess this poor guy,” he accused, “but then you went and killed his own flesh and blood. What, for sport? Just because you could?”

Momentarily closing his eyes to maintain his composure, Raziel said, “None of Andon’s family wanted this for him, but it was his choice. They didn’t accept that, so I did away with them. It was too late for Andon to back out regardless.”

Dean uttered a single sarcastic laugh. “Sounds like a pretty shitty deal to me.” I saw his arm flex, likely from clenching the hidden angel blade tighter. “We’re not gonna let that happen again.”

“In case you’ve forgotten, this isn’t about my vessel. I’m here to enact retribution against you for your unholy crimes.”

Castiel stepped forward then, menacingly hunching his wings before him. “We have no crimes to answer for.”

“No crimes?” Raziel mocked. “Your human-angel fornication is only one on a long list of criminal behavior you’ve engaged in. Disobeying your superiors on the regular, killing swaths of your brothers and sisters, choosing humanity over your own kind…need I go on?”

Though Raziel had struck a tender exposed nerve, Castiel offered no rebuttal. Instead, he cast his gaze downward. “I may have my own slew of wrongdoings to answer for, but loving Dean is not one of them.” Confidence surging, his intense, blue gaze flicked to meet his brother’s. “Of all the things I owe penance for, I will never regret or apologize for that.”

Despite the dangerous situation, I was genuinely touched by that comment. Dean reacted with surprise, but that melted into the shortest of fond, appreciative gazes.

Now outright glaring, Raziel bellowed, “Your relationship is an abomination! It should have never come to pass. I should’ve smitten you both the very instant word got out that you’d finally claimed the Righteous Man for yourself.”

“Get in line,” Dean quipped. “Lotta people were sad to see me monogamous and taken, you’re hardly the first.”

Staring back with a leer of pure malice, Raziel summoned, “Annaron, Viviel, Bethor.”

Each of the angels appeared in succession—Peach-wings, Speckle-wings, and Fuchsia-wings—, kicking up a brief whirlwind every time. They were swift to scan the perimeter, though they made no immediate move to attack.

Silvan’s eyes went wide again when Annaron appeared. “Annalise?”

Yet again, everyone directed their shock towards him.

“Sweet Ann is just my vessel,” Annaron said in the most intimidating old woman voice I’d ever heard. “Aren’t you the fella she was so fond of? Tried to give you a job and everything…woulda if Raziel hadn’t gotten to you first.”

Already utterly reeling, Silvan barely had the energy to choke out, “And—and Vanessa—oh god…” when Viviel stepped forward. “Th-this isn’t happening.”

“It is,” Viviel spat in a cold, un-Vanessa-like voice. “You seem a little shaken; I should probably just put you out of your misery. We can’t leave any witnesses of angelic intervention in this world anyway—”

“Viviel,” Raziel lowly warned.

Holding her hands up in surrender, Viviel took a step back from Silvan. “Alright, I know, you’re the boss. I’m just itchin’ to tear into someone here. We’ve been on this chase for too long without any bloodshed.”

It was beyond haunting to hear those words coming from someone who looked and sounded like Vanessa. Her light, accented voice sounded so sharp. I could only imagine what it was like for Silvan.

Flexing and showing off her green, spotted wings, Viviel spun on her heel and added, “But yeah, call me Vanessa if that makes it easier for your human pea-brain. Not that she’s actually alive in here; poor girl had already given her consent to me when she pointlessly killed herself trying to stop my brother’s necessary little murder spree.” She flexed her fingers and bounced in place. “She makes a nice meatsuit, though.”

Trembling, Silvan shakily whispered, “Monsters. You’re…monsters.”

“Angels,” Annaron corrected. “Though I suppose it depends who you ask,” she added, sending pointed looks to both Winchesters.

“Not all angels are monsters,” Dean argued, glancing at Castiel. “But some of them are, and I’d say you four fit the bill.”

“Well that’s hardly fair!” Viviel whined in protest. “You barely even know Bethor! He’s a precious little angel.” As though to prove her point, she came up behind Fuchsia-wings, grabbed his cheeks, and wiggled his pudgy face around. I would have found it comical, both for the way she towered over him and how he hid his wings in embarrassment, but I was too concerned about freakin’ staying alive.

“Oh!” Viviel perked up, abandoning her stout brother to address Silvan again. “How about another round of guess that vessel? You’ve gotten three outta four, surely you can get the last one!”

“ _Viviel_ ,” Raziel ground out, impatiently grinding his teeth.

“What? I’m just having a little fun! We’ve been cooped up making spells for a week.”

With Viviel’s expectant gaze locked on him, Silvan looked genuinely terrified. “I…I don’t know. I don’t know who he is.”

“Trick question!” Viviel gleefully yelped. “You wouldn’t know him. Poor sucker’s just a random tourist who happened to be nearby when we were on the hunt for vessels.”

Bethor sheepishly waved. I almost sympathized with him until I remembered who he was with.

“Doesn’t matter who his vessel is, though,” Viviel diverted, walking back to sling an arm over Bethor’s shoulders. “Little brother Bethor is gonna make us proud with his first violent act of heavenly retribution!”

All I could do was look on in disbelief. Somehow, this felt even less real than before Raziel had showed up.

“Speaking of which,” Raziel growled, turning his whole attention to his sister. “May we enact that heavenly retribution now, or do you want to needlessly delay this further?”

“I’m just toying with them,” Viviel defended. “You know, some hunters, the really good ones, will toy with their monster prey before they go in for the kill. Thought it’d be a fitting end for this bunch of loonies.”

_You’re the bunch of loonies,_ I thought, fruitlessly pressing myself back against the railing in hopes of magical escape.

“You’ve had your fun,” Raziel went on. “I am the one in charge of this battalion, and I say that we are carrying out heaven’s will _now_ before anything else can—”

Then, several things happened at once.

Something flashed in the corner of my eye; something silvery and bright. It was Dean, bringing his angel blade out into the daylight. Castiel noticed too, though he was too late to stop Dean from charging full steam ahead out of the nest and across the balcony.

Annaron lunged at him, but he deftly ducked sideways and avoided the edge of her blade. He executed a perfect, mid-run side kick for good measure, which sent Annaron sprawling towards my end of the balcony, her pale wings flailing. I jumped and scampered away from where she landed, but she hardly seemed to notice me.

When I looked up, Dean was practically face-to-face with Raziel, and the angel had shoved his blade into Dean’s abdomen.

Everything was silent. No one breathed, no one moved, and no one spoke. Only the ocean dared to fill the blank slate of that awful moment with its mournful melody.

“No…” I breathed, inaudible even to myself.

Dean had a look of resilient resignation when Raziel slid his blade out from his guts. Rather than let Dean crumple, the angel grabbed him by the shoulders, slumped him over the railing behind him, and pushed him over it. A sickening splash resounded through the Villa when he hit the water of the infinity pool below.

“Dean,” Sam’s broken voice was the first one to speak up. In that single word was the weight of losing one’s other half in an instant, too fast to prevent or undo the damage.

A hole hollowed out in my gut. For a moment, I wondered if I’d been stabbed too.

“No,” came another voice, gravelly and uneven. I pulled away from the pain in my insides to glimpse Castiel’s face and immediately regretted it. The horror on his face painted shadows, knitting his eyes wide open yet dwarfed by a profound, dawning pain.

That pain hit daybreak and rose, threatening to leak out through the corners of his eyes. More than any time before, their blue embodied sadness, a depth of loss I couldn’t even begin to dip my toes into.

Then that blue morphed, mutating into something less wet and weepy and into something more bright and fuming. The color grew and grew until it seemed to glow—in fact, it _was_ glowing, lit by a backdrop of flaring, enraged grace and ready to pour out of the physical body that contained it.

An angel blade fell from the sleeve of Castiel’s trench coat and landed precisely in his fingers. He bared his teeth, his rage nearly brighter than his eyes, and growled, “You son of a bitch.”

And then, all hell broke loose.

Castiel was on Raziel in a second, his sword clashing with Raziel’s blood-soaked one and his open palm bleeding angelic light. Sam at last released Silvan, pushing him towards the study. Gripped by his own brand of Winchester vengeance and grief, he readied his own angel blade to converge on Raziel. He didn’t make it that far, as Viviel intercepted him and busied him with a blade fight of her own.

Blades were clashing, wings were flapping, and all I could do was lean on the railing for support while the world spun into chaos around me. Annaron hurried to her feet and joined the fray, procuring her own angel blade from Annalise’s sweater and swiping it towards Castiel. He wasn’t having any of it, bending out of the way and grabbing Dean’s fallen angel blade to take on two angels at once.

Oh god. _Dean._

The hole in my stomach deepened, shoveling out any confidence I may have had and refilling it with horror and blame. My fingertips went numb, and I felt sick from my head to my feet. Somewhere I was dimly aware of Bethor backing away from the fight, but all I could feel or think of was the shock of what befell Dean and the high likelihood that Sam or Castiel could easily suffer the same fate at any moment.

Until, that is, I heard a resounding crash and shatter from within the nest. My twitchy, unfocused gaze locked on Bethor where he hid in the bedroom, his arm hovering over the shell-covered dresser. Several shells had been swiped off its surface, some intact and others broken.

Flattening his vessel’s palms, he scowled like a high school delinquent and shoved many more shells to the floor. The discordant sounds of hard calcium showering the wooden floor was bad enough, compounding the overwhelming noises of angel blades meeting and combatants yelling, but what finally set me off was the sight of those two brown and green shells colliding with the ground and fracturing into shards.

I don’t know if it was caused by lashing out at all the stimuli, experiencing a delayed explosion of grief, or a combination of both, but I ran straight into that nest with every intention of knocking Bethor to the ground. I only realized how reckless of a plan that was when I was right in front of him, stopping just short of the sharp landmines of shells littering the floor.

Bethor looked more than a little surprised by my interference; in fact, for the briefest second, something fearful ghosted over his face. But he raised his hot pink wings and shimmied his blade down his sleeve, creeping forward.

I was beginning to regret my decision, weighing my options as I backed away. Bethor gave me the impression that he was the least experienced of his siblings, so if I was going to stand a chance against any of them, it would be him. But should I just leap at him and hope I could topple him, or should I try to startle him and grab his blade—

There wasn’t enough time for either of those options, because Silvan came charging in. Before either me or Bethor could react, Silvan’s hand chopped down on Bethor’s wrist, forcing him to drop his blade. It clattered across the floor, and impulsively, I grabbed it.

A certain brand of power descended upon me with an angel blade in my hand. I held it out, both hands wrapped firmly around the handle, and directed the best menacing face I could at Bethor. This time, when fear visited his features, it stayed.

Once I was certain Bethor wasn’t going anywhere, I sent Silvan a questioning, thankful look. He just shrugged and muttered, “I-I took karate classes when I was young. Wasn’t sure if that would work…”

Still utterly reeling, I gripped the angel blade tighter, my palms sweating. I took in the carnage of shells and corals at my feet, the visual of jagged destruction and violent sounds of battle banging into my skull.

Feeling a wave of dizziness, I handed the blade to Silvan, who took it. He held its tip towards Bethor, and though he looked uncertain with a weapon in his hand, Bethor wasn’t keen to cross him.

It was by near chance that my eyes followed the trail of oceanic shards towards the corner of the room. Dean’s duffel leaned haphazardly against the wall from where Castiel had discarded it.

Left with no brighter ideas, I kneeled in front of it and began rifling through its contents. All I hoped to find was another angel blade, something that would give us a better chance. Mostly, all I got were clothes, an inordinate amount of flannel that just reminded me of the grief digging into my insides.

Then, upon unfurling one particularly bulky plaid button-up, a mason jar tumbled out from its folds. Inside was a viscous, yellow liquid that dripped and pooled into the jar’s bottom.

Holy oil.

Struck by a vicious inspiration and desperation, I dug further into the bag, willing my fingers to close around something, anything that I could use. And praise Chuck, they did, grabbing something small, cold, and rectangular buried away at the bottom of the duffel.

I’d never been one for fighting; abhorred it, actually, and had virtually no experience or skill in it to speak of. But one of my friends had just been killed, and two more of them were about to be if someone didn’t do something. I was someone with something, and knowing that I’d probably otherwise die anyways, I had to intervene.

Still, that resolve did nothing to lessen my fear as I unscrewed the jar’s lid and hid the lighter in my fist. I was shaking, but I told myself it wasn’t fear; it was rage, a Winchester brand of directed ire determined to right a personal wrong.

I didn’t look back as I passed the nest’s doorway. Sam was still fighting to fend off Viviel, though she had gradually pushed him further and further down the balcony. Castiel was furiously swiping and parrying, a blade in each hand as he struggled to balance himself between Annaron and Raziel’s onslaught. Seeing the battle firsthand, I hesitated, but when Annaron’s blade made contact with Castiel’s arm, eliciting a pained cry from him, I made up my mind.

“Cas!” I yelled. “Get out of the way!”

He spun to look at me, his eyes nearly overflowing with grace. Whether he saw what I held or trusted me on merit alone, he made up his mind before his brethren could inflict any further damage. Castiel plastered his wings to his back and dove out of the fray.

My thumb shook as it struck the spark wheel, a narrow flame shooting upwards from the lighter’s tip. I held out the mason jar and flung its contents in an arc towards Raziel. He shouted, a line of holy oil soaked along his wings and chest.

Without waiting for him to figure it out, I pulled the lighter back over my shoulder, and aimed.

Still running on pure impulse, I yelled one, succinct word as I threw the lighter towards Raziel.

_“YEET!”_

The instant it hit Raziel’s chest, the oil ignited like gasoline. Flames spread out from the center of his chest towards the feathers of his wings. He howled from the first spark, doubling over as the fire grew in intensity. An awful ringing started at the back of my mind, growing louder and louder before reaching a fever pitch as Raziel slid to his knees.

Everyone else was transfixed, watching with shock as Raziel burned. His feathers had begun disintegrating to ash, billowing about. He glowed brighter, brighter, until I knew it wasn’t just the flames.

“Close your eyes!” I shouted over the ringing. “Keep them shut!”

My warning came not a moment too soon. Raziel erupted from his vessel, light pouring from Andon’s mouth and flying outwards towards the sky. A massive, indescribable form took shape high above the treetops at the Villa’s edge, a terrifying, multidimensional form that rattled my brain.

Where Castiel’s true form was the embodiment of “Over the Rainbow,” Raziel’s was more along the lines of Bastille’s “Daniel in the Den;” celestially light yet pounding with fury. He twisted and roared, simultaneously filling up the entire view yet fitting compactly into the space between the Villa and forest. Parts of his form didn’t fit with the rest, singed or discordant from the effects of holy oil.

Unseeable yet seen all the same, Raziel directed his attention to me. I didn’t know how I knew; for all I could tell visually, he may have been looking in every direction at once. But he made one thing clear: I’d just made a huge mistake, and with or without his vessel, he was going to make me pay.

Castiel rose up beside me, spreading a wing in front of me like a shield. He stared defiantly at his brother, still armed with two angel blades, and was ready to enter his own true form at any moment.

“Hey, um, could you guys maybe not?”

A diminutive, wavering sort of voice startled every last person on the balcony. Sam nearly forgot to keep his eyes closed, but covered them with his arm before he could perceive Raziel’s presence. I looked around the balcony and dropped the empty mason jar in astonishment when I saw who had joined us.

“Oh my god,” I said, feeling my face pale. “I-I mean—oh god I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s alright,” assured Chuck Shurley, who had just… _materialized_ in the middle of the balcony. “The whole ‘taking my name in vain’ thing was never as much of a big deal as people make it out to be.”

Numbly watching on, my mouth hung agape as Chuck proceeded to the balcony’s edge, holding a placating hand towards Raziel. Castiel, though momentarily perplexed, must have seen through Chuck’s outer guise, because his lips parted and eyes widened as he stood up straighter.

“Raziel,” Chuck gently admonished. “You should go home.”

Somehow, Raziel had gone entirely still, quiet, and sensationless. I could still perceive him all the same, like a figure seen through heat vision whose molecules had been frozen in place.

Smiling sadly, Chuck soothed, “I’m not angry with you. In some ways, you really think you’re doing the right thing here. But you should know better than to kill my main characters, outside my own domain no less.”

At that, Raziel shifted. Physical facets of pure sound materialized around him, and with a glittering series of space-defying flashes, his form evaporated. Chuck nodded his approval, then slumped and exhaled in relief.

“I thought he’d need a little more convincing,” Chuck commented. “Then again, it’s been a while…”

Only then did he seem to recognize that all eyes were on him. The remaining trio of angels stared into him with fear and awe, unable to muster a single word.

“I know this is all…sudden,” Chuck acknowledged, scratching at his neck. “You all probably have many questions. I’ll try to answer them back home; you all should return too.”

None of the angels moved for several more moments. Annaron was the first to gather herself, clearing her throat and flapping her wings to disappear. Bethor followed her lead, kicking up a slight gust from the nest, and Viviel was last, glancing uncertainly between her father, Raziel’s spent vessel, and Castiel before flying from the scene.

“It’s safe to open your eyes now, guys,” Chuck said, relaxing further now that all threats had left.

Both Silvan and Sam’s eyes blinked open, cautious but eager. Silvan only bothered to examine Chuck for one moment before his eyes fell on Raziel’s vessel—Andon—and he inhaled sharply.

Sudden guilt manifested in my chest. I hadn’t even thought about what the holy fire might do to Andon. It left visible scorch marks along his chest, having burned through much of the suit Raziel had been wearing, and he showed little sign of consciousness.

While Silvan was busy rushing to his brother’s side to examine the damage, Sam took in the scene before him with complete and utter befuddlement.

“Ch…Chuck?” he choked out. “Chuck Shurley?”

Politely bowing his head in acknowledgement, Chuck greeted, “Hi, Sam. It’s been a while.”

Sam’s face scrunched up, baffled as he grappled for an explanation. “Wha-what’re you—how are you—”

“There’s…not really an easy way to explain this,” Chuck sighed. “Um…check your pocket.”

Though wary, Sam complied. He fished around in his pocket, flinching and retracting his fingers as though stung. This only seemed to confuse him further, and when he reached back in again…he pulled out Dean’s amulet by its chord, its talisman glowing with bright, hot light.

At last, Sam seemed to comprehend what this meant, though he scarcely believed it. His eyes darted back to Chuck, who half-smiled in return.

“You’re…no,” Sam denied, turning to me. “Chuck Shurley is _God_ in your world?”

“In your world,” I corrected, still just as shocked as Sam. “I-I don’t know how he—or why he…”

Chuck looked nearly embarrassed to have us talking about him. Imagine that: God, _embarrassed_ by the awe he instilled in two ordinary humans.

Swallowing as his brain fought to process this, Sam awkwardly asked, “Um…should I kneel, or something?”

“Oh, no p-please,” Chuck refuted, chuckling. “That’s usually so embarrassing, there’s no need. We already know each other, anyways.”

“Y-yeah, but,” Sam stammered, “I knew you as a drunk prophet of God, not…” He vaguely gestured to all of Chuck. “ _Actually_ God!”

“I know it’s confusing, but…” Chuck glanced back at me, and I instinctively shrunk. “I think she can answer just about any question you have. She’s basically an expert on my work.”

_Don’t blush don’t blush dON’T BLUSH-_

Aaaaaand I was blushing. Could you really blame me? I was just complimented by God—G-O-D—for being an expert on all things Supernatural. Plus, he apparently _knew_ me.

I would have asked when my life got so surreal, but I’d long since surpassed the stage of questioning it.

Throughout all of this, Sam stood stuck in a state of shellshock, staring into empty space yet perceiving nothing.

“Um…Sam?” I asked. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” he answered in a high-pitched voice. “Just, um, reevaluating my whole existence and life up to this point.”

“That’s fair.” I laughed nervously. “You had a bit more time to adjust to it on the show, so…”

The briefest bit of boiling frustration colored Sam’s face. “You knew about this?”

“I-I didn’t think it was important!” I defended shakily. “And I didn’t want to mess up the timeline any more than I already had…” I suddenly remembered Chuck’s presence. “Um…sorry about that. Messing with timeline, I mean.”

“Don’t be,” Chuck casually dismissed. “You uh, actually did pretty good with that. You had foreknowledge of what was gonna happen, and you intervened; that’s more than I can say for myself. Good job.”

All I could do was blink dumbly and avoid eye contact. “Um…th-thanks? What…exactly are you doing here? I thought you weren’t into godly intervention.” I paused. “Well, except when your sister is involved.”

Poor Sam nearly stumbled and fell to the ground under that revelation. “Wha- God has a sister?!”

“Her name’s Amara,” I supplied. “Not super nice, but don’t worry about it, she won’t be a problem.”

Inhaling and closing his eyes, Chuck said, “You’re right. I really just wanted to keep working on my autobiography, but—

“God has an autobiography?” Sam hissed to himself, though Chuck persisted.

“Anyway, I thought everything would be fine after you derailed the series of horrific events that were supposed to follow, but…as often happens, I underestimated my children. I couldn’t have them killing any of you in a world outside my jurisdiction.”

Only then did Chuck seem to remember that Castiel was present, still holding a tense posture and barely able to meet his father’s eyes. Chuck sighed, reaching out to cover Castiel’s shoulder with his hand. The angel jumped at the contact, but finally looked his dad in the face.

“Castiel…” Chuck greeted, regret weighing his voice. “I’m…ah, I’m sorry.”

Squinting and holding back emotion, Castiel questioned, “What for?”

“For being an absent father. That’s an apology I owe to all of the angels, actually, but you deserve to hear it first; you were the one who tried the hardest to find me. I thought I could bring you back to life a few times and call us even, but…since I’m here.”

Something twinkled in Castiel’s eyes. For a moment, I thought it was more grace, but the way the sun glinted off it like water changed my mind: his eyes were wet.

Looking dejectedly off to the side, Castiel ventured, “Father, I…know that I have done terrible things, but if I could ask just one favor of you.”

Chuck chortled and let his hand slip off Castiel. “Well, you have done some bad things, but you’re my son. And who here hasn’t done terrible things?”

My hand slowly trembled into the air.

“Put your hand down,” Chuck requested. “I know you’re in the middle of a multiversal screw-up right now.”

I dropped my hand back to my side immediately.

“The point is…Cas, you’ve done some bad things, yeah, but every time you were either not in control of yourself or trying to do something for the greater good. Take it from God: you’re alright.”

An invisible weight lifted from Castiel, his wings held higher, his shoulders squared, and a relief draping over his features like a gently falling curtain at the end of a show.

“Well…” Castiel croaked, self-consciously fiddling with his coat. “I know you’ve brought me back in the past, but…” Frowning in concentration, he begged, “Please- _please_ -bring Dean back.”

“Oh, I was planning on doing that anyway,” Chuck dismissed.

That got Sam’s attention, his face whipping upwards. His attempts to make sense of Chuck’s true identity and role took an immediate backseat to the prospect of getting his brother back.

“What, you thought I’d just leave him dead?” Chuck grinned. “He’s one of the most important people in our world.” Hesitating a moment, he glanced back at Castiel and winked. “And besides, I can’t have half of my OTP alive and the other half dead.”

An explosion of laughter rocketed past my lips. Everyone, even Chuck, was startled.

“I did a little research into fandom lingo,” he mumbled. “Kinda had to with the cult following my books got…anyways, let’s get Dean.”

Sam was way ahead of him. From the first step Chuck took towards the staircase, Sam practically bounded to get downstairs and retrieve his brother. It didn’t even hit me just how relieving it was to know Chuck would fix all this until that moment.

_A literal deus ex machina,_ I thought, giggling from the genuine humor and surreality of the situation.

As I followed suit, Castiel strode up beside me and asked, “Um…what did he mean?”

“You mean the OTP thing?” I checked. “It means you and Dean are his favorite couple; he thinks you’re adorable together.” Seeing how that made Castiel blush slightly, I teased, “And he’s right, ya know: you two are adorable. God himself has decreed it, he ships Destiel, no takebacks.”

“God does what?”

Silvan’s voice broke through the expanding bubble of ease that had begun surrounding me. That entire time, he’d just been sitting there, his head buried in Andon’s shoulder as he waited for him to wake up.

Guilt was swift to pop that bubble entirely. In all the excitement of Chuck’s appearance, I’d completely forgotten Silvan’s woes.

Scraping together an explanation, I managed, “He…never mind, it was just a joke. You wait here with Andon, God—uh, Chuck can help him. We’ll be right back, I promise.”

That brightened his worry-stricken features, however slightly. “I…okay. Thank you. Just give me some time with him in case he doesn’t…” He shuddered. “I’ll be here. Go on.”

Though still doubtful, I trotted towards the staircase, catching up with Sam and Chuck at the bottom. The former eyed the pool with dread, and before long I reflected the sentiment. I really, really did not want to see a dead body, least of all the dead body of one of my friends.

I tried to brace myself and pretend it was just another episode of Supernatural, that it wasn’t real, but that idea flew straight out the window the instant I peered into the pool. Dean was in there alright, floating face-down and limp. Billowing strands of red filled the pristine, blue backdrop of the water, and I felt bile sting the back of my mouth when I realized it was Dean’s blood.

Looking for all intents and purposes choked up, Sam took a shaky breath and guided Dean’s body towards the deck, hauling him up onto the wooden boards as gently as possible. I gagged and covered my face when he was rolled over onto his back. My eyes darted between his pale face and the wound in his stomach, and eventually I had to look away altogether.

Castiel waited on the fringes behind me, and even without taking in his expression, I knew he was mortified. Our of the corner of my eye I saw his wings twitching and drooping, alternating between revulsion and anguish.

No matter how many times I’d seen Dean die on a television screen, nothing could match seeing it in person. More so than ever before, I understood Sam’s resignation and anger during the Mystery Spot debacle.

Without much ceremony, Chuck kneeled beside the body and placed his hands over the stab wound. A yellow, searing light emanated from his palms, which mercifully blocked my view of the bloody hole he was mending. Sam kneeled anxiously beside him, scanning his brother’s face for any signs of life.

The godly light snuffed out in a burst. For a few painstaking moments, nothing happened. And then, Dean’s eyes flew open with a gasp.

Mouth falling open, Sam laughed breathily and pulled his resurrected brother into his arms. “Oh, thank god,” he cried.

“Yeah, you’re welcome,” Chuck quipped, rising and backing away from the moment.

Dean was beyond dazed, squinting in the sunlight and wresting himself out of his brother’s embrace. “What—the hell?”

Although Dean would probably need some time to adjust to being alive again, I was too enthused to stay put. I ran over, slid across the deck, and trapped him in a hug. He grunted but did hesitantly return the hug somewhat. I was so happy to see him breathing again that I didn’t even care how the pool water dripping off him soaked my clothes.

Dean pulled away and examined himself, prodding at his stomach. His shirt still had a definite, bloodstained tear, but the skin underneath was smooth and unmarred.

“I know this sounds like a broken record at this point, but…how am I alive?” he finally wondered.

I pointed at Chuck, who observed from a respectful distance. “You can thank him for that.”

Blinking rapidly as he looked up into the sunlight, Dean squinted. “…Chuck? What the fffu—how long was I out?”

“Approximately eight minutes,” a new, awed voice piped up.

Castiel walked towards the pool’s edge on sluggish, light feet. His wings were bunched up behind him, hopeful and expectant yet cautious. His every movement was calculated, as though one step taken too fast or one twitch out of place would undo the miracle in front of him.

Realizing that a moment™ was about to occur, I shimmed away. Sam caught on a second later, playfully shoving his brother towards Castiel and retreating. That shove only resulted in Dean’s elbows falling out from beneath him, landing with an “oof!” as he fell flat on the deck once again.

Luckily, Castiel had just about reached him by then, so he propped Dean back up into a sitting position. The two stared at each other for a bit, like they do, just drinking in each other’s presence.

“Thanks, Cas,” Dean said, giving him a winning, weary smile.

The way Castiel’s face practically melted at those words made my own heart melt a little. He looked so relieved, so joyous, so unguarded to have Dean alive and with him. The angel’s smile grew until it lit up his whole face, and a gruff, disbelieving laugh huffed out of him as he pulled Dean in for a tight hug. Dean wholeheartedly reciprocated, letting himself untense and rest his whole weight on Castiel. He may not have admitted it aloud, but the exhaustion evident in his body was just one of many signs proving how rattled he was.

For the time being, he just let Castiel hold him, closing his eyes and breathing him in. Castiel’s wings thrummed with grace and surrounded Dean, pulling him closer into a soft, reassuring security blanket.

Pulling back slightly, Castiel grabbed Dean’s face and pressed a quick kiss to his lips. “Never do that again.”

Smirking, Dean joked, “You know I can’t promise something like that.”

“ _Dean._ ”

Rolling his eyes, Dean acquiesced. “Alright, fine. I promise I won’t recklessly try to stab a douchey angel and get flung into a pool again. Happy?”

Unable to maintain his stern pretense, Castiel pulled Dean closer to rest their foreheads together. “Very,” he declared.

The two of them lost themselves in rubbing their noses against each other, relishing in being back together, until Sam pointedly cleared his throat behind them.

“Um…right,” Castiel mumbled, hesitantly separating from Dean and helping the hunter to his feet. “Dean…meet my father,” he introduced, gesturing to Chuck.

Chuck offered an awkward little wave to Dean, who stared at him without a hint of comprehension. Dean then glanced at me for clarification, and though I nodded, he still didn’t get it.

Sighing, Sam muttered, “Uh…here,” and fished the Samulet from his pocket once more. The pendant still seared with yellow energy, pulsating and filling the air around it.

Dean’s mouth fell open. “What—no, that’s not—” Another train of thought derailed his mounting understanding. “Wait a minute, you _kept_ that?”

“You can be mad at me later,” Sam deflected, shoving the amulet away. “Bigger matters at hand.”

Blinking slowly as he took this in, Dean turned back to Chuck with new shock and realization. He forcefully snapped his jaw shut when he remembered he was still gaping.

“Um…” he awkwardly began. “It’s an…honor to meet you? Quick question, though: why didn’t you, I dunno, mention you were God?” Irritation overtook his tone. “And while you’re at it, what’s up with the crappy lives you gave us?”

I flinched at that last bit. Though I understood fully well why Dean would ask it, it implied a monsoon of conflict I wasn’t prepared to witness firsthand.

Managing an apologetic half-smile, Chuck replied, “It was all part of my ‘free will’ policy. Nonintervention has been my entire business model for a while now.”

Dean’s stare hardened. “Then why intervene now?”

Puffing out his chest, Chuck released a heavy breath. “Long story short, uh…I felt bad that this overall happier timeline ended up here. I mean, you guys were supposed to go through some heavy stuff, but since she intervened,” I jumped when Chuck pointed to me, “things were supposed to be much smoother sailing.” He chuckled. “You don’t even know…like, if you think your lives are crappy now, that’s nothing compared to what you would have been put through if she hadn’t stopped you from trying to complete the trials. Think something along the lines of the apocalypse times five.”

Even though I knew the extent of what literal apocalypses I’d adverted through my actions, hearing God himself bring it up was more than a little overwhelming. I could’ve fizzled away and turned to a cloud of dust under the quizzical stares my friends sent my way.

“Besides that…” Chuck stepped towards Dean and Castiel, a devious glint in his eye. “I couldn’t let one of my own children try to get in the way of my story’s main romance.”

Heat rose to Dean’s cheeks. “Uh…what?”

“You two were meant to be from the beginning,” Chuck explained. “That…may have been one area where I allowed for some intervention on my part. You two did most of the work though.” He thought for a moment. “Oh, and [Y/N] too. She got you together a lot earlier than I intended.”

I couldn’t tell if that was a compliment or an accusation, so I stayed silent.

“And since you were already together and doing so well…” Chuck shrugged self-consciously. “I had to do something when Raziel killed you.”

Utterly reeling, Castiel asked, “You…intended for me and Dean to be together this entire time?”

Brightening, Chuck exclaimed, “Of course! Even when I was writing the books, I pumped as much subtext and tension into your relationship as I could. The fans certainly picked up on that…”

Chuck sent me a knowing sideways glance, and I managed a wobbly grin in return.

“I freakin’ knew it,” Sam whispered to himself, suppressing a laugh.

“So yes,” Chuck concluded, “you two have always been destined to be together by the forces of the universe. Knowing that, you may as well go ahead and get married!”

Astonished blushes broke out on both Castiel and Dean’s faces. Sam and I both sputtered with amusement in the background.

“U-uh,” Dean fumbled, “I-I dunno about that—I mean that’d be—We’ve taken things slow—”

“It’s a human custom that requires time,” Castiel chipped in. “We’ve only been officially a couple for almost a year.”

“For you two, I think that’s long enough,” Chuck decided. “You’re divinely meant to be together, no matter how Raziel interpreted heaven’s laws, and since it would come to pass anyways…why not now? You have my utmost blessing.”

Neither one could come up with a rebuttal to that. I suspect they were both still a little caught up in the fact that God not only approved of their relationship, but encouraged it and considered it a lasting inevitability of the universe.

That…yeah, that would throw just about anybody for a loop. Still, I couldn’t stop my inner cringey, squealing fangirl from bouncing around the confines of my skull at that revelation.

“And who knows?” Chuck wondered wistfully, leaning towards Castiel. “Maybe one day, you’ll even have a soul-bonding in your future.”

At that, Castiel’s feathers fluffed up to a degree I had never witnessed before. Embarrassment colored his face a deeper hue while his feathers shuddered with thrill. I could venture a fairly confident guess as to what Chuck meant, but I couldn’t tell if he was truly serious or not.

Chuck’s eyes darted between Dean and Castiel a few times. “I’m being an embarrassing dad, aren’t I?”

“…A little,” Castiel admitted, though he wore a slight smile.

“Alright then,” Chuck sighed, suddenly appearing tired. “Well, I have my work cut out for me back home…I have a lot of explaining to do in heaven—not that I’m back in business, I just want to sort some things out and keep this timeline progressing the way it should—”

“W-wait!” I interrupted, realizing he was fixing to leave.

He raised a single, inquisitive eyebrow. I froze up under his questioning gaze.

“U-um,” I continued eloquently. “There’s, um…upstairs, Raziel’s vessel—”

“Andon Fontaine will be just fine,” Chuck assured. “Him coming to this world was an accident, but his presence will help heal the wrongs done to him and his brother.” He shifted to address the group at large. “If that’s it, I…really do need to get back. I know you all have some things you need to work out here anyways…”

“Speaking of which,” Sam interrupted, “I’m guessing you…know what we’re doing here?”

Chuck gave a single, curt nod.

“So…do you know if it’s enough? To keep [Y/N]’s wish, I mean?”

After a moment’s contemplation, Chuck cryptically answered, “It will be.”

A gasp erupted from the balcony overhead. Silvan’s voice cried, “Andon!”

“And that’s my cue to leave,” Chuck concluded. “Sam, your puppy is still cowering under the bed upstairs, you should go show him you’re alright. Dean and Cas, you don’t have to worry about any angels sabotaging you; I’ll ensure total privacy. And [Y/N]…” He trailed off, curiously examining me. “I’m sorry about the stuff that’s happened to you in this world. But, you’re always welcome in mine.”

With one last, lopsided smile, Chuck all but vanished into thin air. Just like that, all traces of divine intervention had left the Villa.

Shaking myself and stowing away the events so I could process them later, I dashed towards and up the stairs. Silvan was still where I left him, practically clinging to his brother—only now, Andon was clinging back.

The two of them were huddled into the corner where Andon had fallen, hugging and crying into each other’s shoulders. I wondered if it was right for me to invade on this much-needed family reunion, but before I could leave, Silvan peered up and noticed me. Neither of us said anything, but I nodded to him and he nodded back, beaming and teary-eyed.

Sam had been right behind me, and after seeing for himself that Andon was alright, he darted into the study to check on his dog and emerged with Wattson bundled safely in his arms. Dean and Castiel ascended after him, their hands interlocked as though they might lose each other again at any moment.

Eventually Silvan and Andon separated, each of them tossing back “whys” and “hows” and simultaneously trying to explain each side of their story. They looked and sounded ecstatic; Silvan was happier than I’d ever seen him, a weight I hadn’t even noticed totally lifted from his shoulders.

And as for Andon…although it took a bit to get used to seeing him with a relaxed posture and jovial voice after being under Raziel’s control for so long, it wasn’t a difficult adjustment. Andon wore his face much better than Raziel, I thought, the crinkles around his eyes happy rather than tired and his brow high rather than stern. Although Raziel’s suit still clung off him in tatters, he didn’t seem the least bit bothered by it or what remained of his injuries.

“That’s them,” Silvan said at some point, pointing Andon towards us.

Laughing deeply, Andon came forward to greet me and Team Free Will. He went from one of us to the other, firmly shaking each of our hands.

“Thank you, thank you,” he gushed. “I never thought I’d be able to move on my own again, let alone see my brother alive!”

When he reached me, he shook my hand so hard that it sent a jolt through my entire arm. I tried to match his enthusiasm, but the best I could do was hold on and try to keep my shoulder in its socket.

“What you did with that oil,” he told me, “was very brave. I know how powerful angels are, and I know what it takes to try to stand up to one.”

Flushing at the praise, I mumbled, “Y-you’re welcome, um…I’m just sorry I had to burn you to get him out.”

“No apologies!” He waved his hand through the air in a wide arc. “I was afraid that to be rid of Raziel, I would have to die with him. This is much preferable.” He gestured to the hole in his outfit. “And it gave me the coolest tattoo ever!”

It was true; the flames had left a darkened, jagged pattern on Andon’s chest where they’d seared through the clothes. Even on his dark skin, it stood out like stark soot.

“All of you were brave,” Andon reiterated. “Thank you, truly.”

“S’what we do,” Dean replied smoothly. “Saving people, hunting things—”

“The family business!” I finished. Dean squinted at me, but I didn’t regret it.

“Family business or not,” Andon said, “it makes a world of difference to me and Silvan.” He looked at his brother, who stood a little ways behind him. “To think, he’d lost me just as I’d lost him…”

Perking up, Silvan pointed a triumphant finger in the air. “Which reminds me, Andon…Vanessa will want to see you. She—”

“Vanessa?!” Andon exclaimed, taking on the demeanor of an excited, giant puppy. “Oh gosh, I—I have to see her!”

“I contacted her earlier,” Silvan said. “Before…eh, all of this. She may well be on her way still—I need to check my phone, I left it downstairs…”

With that, Silvan hurried past with Andon in tow. The latter had begun gushing about how much he’d missed Vanessa, how he couldn’t wait to see her, the love of his life, sun of his sky, etc. It was beyond endearing and only further solidified that he truly was opposite to Raziel in practically every way.

“I’ll see if I can do anything to help,” Sam told us, hoisting a still-trembling Wattson higher up. Though I didn’t doubt his intentions, I couldn’t help but think he also wanted to take Wattson downstairs to roam free and get the fear out of his system.

Meanwhile, Dean and Castiel drifted towards their nest, and I, of course, crept after them. Castiel stopped short when he got a closer look at the carnage Bethor had inflicted.

Expression heavy, Castiel leaned down to run his fingers over the shards of shell strewn across the floor. That alone gave it a disheveled feel, which was heightened by the dislodged palm trees sheltering the bed and a spilled pot of herbs in the back.

“Oh, shit,” Dean hissed when he saw the nest, covering his mouth. “Cas, did they…?”

He didn’t finish, but he didn’t need to. Castiel just sluggishly nodded his head, his eyes glazed over as they followed the chaotic line of broken beachcombing treasures.

Looking rather choked up himself, Dean apologized, “Man, I’m…I’m sorry. If it helps, I’ll…always remember what it looked like before.”

Castiel’s hand stopped on a curved, jagged piece of the large brown and green shell he’d used in his analogy earlier that day. His fingers rubbed the pearlescent patch on its surface.

With a shaky breath, Castiel forced himself to rise to his feet.

“You okay?” Dean checked, stepping into the nest and placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“Not entirely,” Castiel readily admitted. “I’m upset at the state of our nest; my fears of my brethren defiling it came true.” Thinking it over, Castiel turned more towards Dean. “But…my worst fear of all was losing you. After that…the sanctity of our nest feels miniscule in comparison.”

Unsure what to do, Dean opted to pull Castiel into a hug, offering comfort.

“I…” Castiel swallowed. “I can’t believe I was so worried about this room. If I hadn’t been so fixated on our nest, maybe I could have stopped you from—”

“Nuh-uh,” Dean stopped him. “We are not playing the blame game, not today. It’s my own damn fault I got killed, it always is.”

“It was your own reckless decision, but—” Castiel hesitated. “The last words we’d shared had been a petty argument. I couldn’t bear to lose you, certainly not after leaving on a note such as that.”

My eyes got a little misty. Dang it, I followed these two around for fluff, not angst!

“You were bein’ a little stubborn,” Dean agreed good-naturedly. “But seriously, Cas, it’s not your fault. I’m here now, right?”

“Yes…and I thank my father endlessly for that.”

Dean snorted. “Yeah…who would’ve thought Chuck Shurley, of all people, was God?”

Castiel chuckled warmly, pulling away from Dean’s hold. When his eyes again fell on the state of the nest, his demeanor once again dampened.

“If nothing else,” Castiel said, “could we at least spend some time in this nest as it was meant to be used?”

Quirking a suggestive eyebrow, Dean asked, “As in…?”

“As in something that would _not_ alert a squadron of vengeful angels to our exact location, were that still a concern. Frankly, I’m emotionally and physically taxed by today’s events. I just want to keep you close and safe for a while.”

Shrugging, Dean agreed, “Same here, actually.”

Realizing the opportunity at hand, I slunk across the balcony and towards my preferred recliner. By the time I’d gotten comfy, Dean and Castiel had crept beneath the palm leaves and parted the tinkling, glass-strewn netting to settle within their nest. The blankets and pillows were arranged concentrically, creating soft layers interspersed with feathers.

Grinning at the arrangement, Dean picked up one of the black, shimmering feathers at random. Once Castiel was fully enclosed in the bed’s cocoon, Dean booped the tip of the angel’s nose with the feather. Castiel’s face scrunched up, but he smiled upon seeing the amusement it brought Dean.

Something about the purity of the moment must have gotten to Castiel. With an abrupt weightiness, he wrapped his arms around Dean’s back and shuffled until the side of his face was pressed against Dean’s chest, closing his eyes in concentration.

“You…you good?” Dean checked, smiling down bemusedly.

“I just…needed to hear your heartbeat for myself,” Castiel confessed. “I couldn’t bear the thought of it not being there.”

Mouth falling open in surprise, Dean’s face clogged with several emotions at once. “Hey, Cas, I’m here, I’m alright.” He brought up a hand to press the angel’s head closer, resting his own head on top and absently scritching a few fingers through Castiel’s hair.

The affection seemed to calm Castiel, who untensed and melded into Dean’s hold. He hummed under his breath. “I find that I am most content when I can hear your heart. I’ve heard the sounds of galaxies being born and dying and everything in between, but I think you are my favorite sound of all.”

Lightly scoffing, Dean murmured, “Sap,” and pressed a kiss to the top of his boyfriend’s head.

“Truly, Dean, I…” Castiel huffed as though frustrated, removing himself from Dean’s chest but still holding on. “I’m not certain that you understand just how much you mean to me.”

“I’m pretty sure I’ve got a decent idea.”

“And I’m pretty sure that you don’t,” Castiel countered, leaning in for a simple kiss which Dean happily returned.

“Surely that gave me a pretty good idea,” Dean playfully replied upon breaking the kiss.

Castiel grinned but shook his head. “No, I still don’t think you get it. After what happened with Raziel…” His expression darkened, and he shook himself. “All I could think of was how I’d never managed to articulate the true depth of my feelings for you…how you’d never gotten to feel truly worthy, and how I might have changed that if I’d tried harder.”

“I’m hearing some self-blame in there, mister,” Dean scolded, but he still watched Castiel with rapt attention.

“I couldn’t help but blame myself,” Castiel defended. “Regardless of whether I was at fault or not, I…still feel that I need to…” He trailed off, face twisting in frustration as he grappled for the words. “Dean, I’m a being who has existed for millennia. I’ve seen every conceivable force of the universe, big or small, firsthand, and experienced it in ways only celestially possible. I’ve witnessed blackholes tear worlds asunder and followed a single drop of water from the peak of a mountain, through the ocean, and into the sky. It is absurd to think that a creature like me could love a human.”

He paused, twirling one of his wings thoughtfully and sending billows through the netting. “And yet, here I am, more enamored with you than the infinite lineage of stardust or the atoms of Galileo’s brilliant brain. There’s something about you that I just can’t explain…a perfect storm of the luster in your soul, the beauty of your form, and the intent of your every action. Perhaps it’s because I was lucky enough to have the honor of reconstructing you all those years ago, I’m not sure. But I am absolutely sure of one thing: I have existed for millennia, Dean, and for all the things I’d seen and understood, I didn’t have an inkling of what love was until I met you.”

A mic may as well have dropped in my brain following that monologue. Holy _frick_.

The sheer profoundness of it smacked me in the chest. By a seemingly chance meeting, and the sheer volume of consequential circumstances and interactions that followed, a love blossomed forth that defied the very nature of celestial, transcendent existence. The fact that the universe—or perhaps the multiverse at large—had consecutively arranged itself to allow that to happen was awe-inspiring.

Dean’s mouth opened and closed a few times, utterly at a loss for words. Even shielded by the netting encompassing the bed, I could see the absolute wonder in his eyes as he processed what all this meant—as much as a human could comprehend, anyway. I was struggling to grasp the enormity of it myself.

“You…” Dean breathed out, any traces of weightiness leaving his voice. “You really love me. Really, really…truly love me.”

Frowning, Castiel demanded, “How could you doubt that?”

“No, I mean…I already knew _that_ , it’s just…it only just now hit me. You’re an immortal being nearly older than time itself, and you… _love_ me.”

“I do,” Castiel declared, placing a quick, desperate smack of a kiss to Dean’s lips. “I really do, please never doubt that, Dean.”

Staring into Castiel’s eyes with new wonder and appreciation, Dean softly pulled Castiel as close as he could, their faces inches apart. Castiel swept his wings around to enclose Dean in turn.

Exhaling a half-laugh, half-sigh, Dean said, “Your dad is right. We do need to get married.”

Surprise twitched onto Castiel’s face. “You…think so?”

“Never thought marriage was in the cards for me, but…” Dean shrugged. “With you? Yeah, I’d take the plunge.”

Looking down and pondering, Castiel disentangled himself from Dean without struggle. Dean watched with curiosity as his angel removed himself from the bed, carefully stepping over the shards on the floor and sifting through the remnants that remained atop the main dresser. In the middle of it all, pushed aside but unharmed, was Sam’s woven basket.

Taking the basket in both hands, Castiel steeled himself and crawled back up into the bed. Dean observed in silence, waiting to see what Castiel was up to.

Formally clearing his throat, Castiel spoke. “Dean Winchester, of all the people, places, things, and phenomena that I have witnessed in my near ageless existence, not one of them can enrapture me as you have. That being said…”

Slowly, Castiel lifted the basket’s lid. I couldn’t see inside at first, but the way Dean reflexively inhaled at its contents gave me a good idea of what lay within.

Castiel reached into the basket and brought out the sea glass ring. Now that the glass had dried, a thin layer of crystallized salt had become apparent on its surface. Its green form glimmered with thousands of tiny crystals, the ocean’s own diamonds, and amplified the spots of blue coral growth spattered in between.

Holding the ring out between his thumb and index finger, Castiel continued, “Would you be amenable, as is custom in human declarations of romantic commitment, to be wed to me?”

Staring breathlessly at the ring, Dean’s eyes flicked up to Castiel’s. “Wait a minute,” he interjected, “did you just have that ring in there the whole time? Were you _planning_ this?”

“I was saving it for when the right moment presented itself,” Castiel admitted sheepishly. “It just…presented itself much sooner than I had expected.”

Huffing with disbelieving laughter, Dean proclaimed, “Y-yes! _Hell_ yes I’ll marry you, holy shit!”

Losing any and all tension in his posture and wings, Castiel took one of Dean’s pliant hands and gingerly slipped the ring onto Dean’s corresponding finger. It fit him perfectly.

Taking a moment to admire the ring and loosely spin it around his finger, Dean broke out into an uncontrollable smile. “Did…did you just propose? Are we engaged?”

“I believe those are the correct terms, yes,” Castiel proudly replied. “Which would make us…fiancés?”

“Yeah,” Dean breathily confirmed, still caught in a state of awe. “Oh my god, we’re gonna get married. How’re we—where’re are we gonna—”

“The details can be worked out later,” Castiel soothed. “For now, I think it’s best that we just bask in this turn of events.”

“Bask…” Dean calmed himself, though he still couldn’t hope to fight his overriding smile. “Yeah, I can do that.”

Evidently, Dean equated “basking” with “boatloads of smooching,” because the next thing I knew, he and Castiel had boarded a one-way train to Snog City. I discreetly stood up from my recliner and left them to acquaint their faces for a while, sequestered in their battered yet intact nest.

Left with nowhere else to go, I escaped downstairs. Wattson greeted me at the bottom with a friendly yap and rapidly waving tail. Sam stood nearby and called to Wattson, who happily trotted back to his favorite moose. Andon and Silvan sat in the chairs beneath the shade of the balcony overhead, talking amicably.

Strolling towards the reunited brothers, I stood beside Silvan’s chair and asked, “Found your phone?”

Silvan reached into the pocket of his shorts and held up his phone in reply. “Vanessa has been heading here this entire time. She has no idea who is waiting for her here…I couldn’t figure out how to tell her by text.” Scratching at the nape of his neck, he changed gears. “Eh…sorry for treating you like you were crazy earlier.”

“It’s fine!” I assured. “Any sane person probably would have thought I was out of my mind, the way I was talking.”

“But it was all true.” Silvan shook his head. “I still can’t believe it…”

“You’re telling me!” Andon exclaimed. “Imagine finding out that your entire world was full of monsters and you never knew about it!”

“I can only imagine…” Silvan glanced my way nervously. “Our world doesn’t have creatures like that…right?”

“None that I know of,” I answered, trying my best to assuage his fears. “Only monsters here are people. Which…is a different kind of terrifying, but still.”

Speaking of terrifying, a chorus of vicious barks and growls erupted from the Villa’s side yard. I knew it was just Eve and Jack warning us of a visitor, but that didn’t stop my heart from attempting to evacuate my chest cavity. And with all the excitement and fighting earlier, who could blame me?

“She must be here,” Silvan said, rising to his feet. “I’ll go greet her—” He gave Andon a sharp look. “Wait here. She…I need to give her a warning for what to expect.”

Though he fidgeted, Andon cooperated. “Alright, yes, fine, I’ll wait.”

I followed Silvan, leaving poor Andon to bounce in place while he anxiously awaited the return of his girlfriend.

“She said she was getting a ride,” Silvan explained as he unlatched the front gate. “I’m not sure who—”

Right at that moment, a familiar vehicle bumped along the gravel driveway, radiating blasting music. Silvan just stared as it swung around to park in front of the Villa. Its front doors opened, and out of the passenger side stepped Vanessa, cloaked in a long white coat typical of med students. My fear response instinctively kicked in upon seeing her again, but I calmed myself by the lack of wings and airy manner she held herself with. This was most definitely not Viviel.

The driver side door slammed shut, revealing none other than Danny in his wetsuit. He grinned widely when he saw Silvan, and though surprised by his appearance, Silvan certainly looked pleased to have him back on the premises so soon.

Vanessa strode up to the gate, greeting Silvan with a friendly kiss on the cheek. “Hi, Silvan! You had me worried when you didn’t answer my text.”

“Right—about that—” Silvan attempted to explain, but Vanessa moved past him and through the entryway.

“W-wait, Vanessa,” Silvan called after her, grabbing her by the arm. “There’s—someone is in there, and it will be overwhelming for you—I can’t explain how he’s back, it’s complicated—”

“Who’s back?” Vanessa lightly asked, giggling at Silvan’s frantic air of nervousness.

“C’mon, Silvan,” Danny interjected, striding through the gate to join them. “You’re freaking her out. Who’s visiting? You already cheating on me?”

Though Danny was obviously joking, Silvan vehemently refuted that. “No! It’s—ah, I can’t explain, just…” He took a deep, calming breath. “You should both prepare yourselves. It’s nothing bad—quite the opposite—but it will shock you.”

Danny pondered this for a few moments. “So…you _are_ already seeing someone else?”

“ _No_!” Silvan repeated.

“I’m just kidding,” Danny laughed. “You’re too innocent for that. But…you could still prove it if you gave me a cheek kiss?”

Staring between a bewildered Vanessa and Danny’s comically extended cheek, Silvan sighed. “You get much more than a kiss on the cheek,” Silvan said, having made up his mind. He smushed his and Danny’s lips together for a few moments, kissing him with force.

Beside me, Vanessa had gone a shade of pale pink, covering her mouth with her hand. Evidently, Danny hadn’t made her privy to his updated relationship status with Silvan…  
“If you think that’s a surprise,” I whispered to her, “you’ve got a big storm comin’.”

Vaguely unnerved by that, Vanessa took her chance to enter the Villa while Silvan was distracted. I followed after her, keeping a close eye on her reaction. When she saw who was waiting for her, all the pink flowed out of her face, leaving pale emptiness in its place.

Blinking hard, Vanessa’s mouth fell open. “A…Andon?”

Practically vibrating with excitement, Andon nodded.

The waterworks started almost instantly, tears wetting the corners of Vanessa’s eyes as the glorious reality in front of her set in. “Oh…oh mon _Dieu_!” She cried, stumbling forward and into Andon’s arms, hugging him for all he was worth.

“Oh, Andon,” she choked out, sniveling as she clung to him. “My amour, mon love!”

That was the final blow that broke Andon’s own dam. He sniffled loudly, his own rivers flowing down his face as he cradled Vanessa against him. By then, Silvan and Danny had emerged from the entrance, both taking in the scene.

“Is…is that…?” Danny whispered.

“Andon,” Silvan quietly confirmed. “He…put simply, a miracle brought him here. I’ll explain later.”

Danny accepted that for the time being, watching with wonder as Andon proved to be very much alive and well right in front of him. I’d scarcely seen him so caught off-guard for the relatively brief time I’d known him.

“How…how?” Vanessa begged, holding Andon’s face in her hands. “You were gone, swept away by Maria!”

Holding her gaze with his own waterlogged eyes, Andon replied, “It’s a long story. I…there’s another world, and…”

Vanessa’s gaze travelled from her love’s face towards the obvious hole burnt through his suit. Her initial alarm at the sight was dwarfed when she saw the scars of burning underneath.

“What…what is this?” she demanded, horrified. “Are you hurt? What happened?”

“It was the only way for me to be here,” Andon replied, still as choked up as ever. “Just a burn, I barely feel it. I’d—I’d suffer burns a hundred times worse than this if it meant seeing you again—”

He broke off, his tears getting the better of him as he turned back into a blubbering mess. Vanessa wiped at his tears, and he in turn wiped at hers.

“This is like watching the most cliched rom-com in history,” Danny snarked, which earned a fond chuckle from Silvan.

_Try living around Dean and Castiel,_ I thought, even though the vast majority of the time I willingly and enthusiastically subjected myself to their antics.

Speaking of my favorite otter couple, Dean and Castiel came traipsing down the stairs about that time to investigate the commotion. No one aside from Sam paid them much notice, which was to their benefit; both of them sported particularly puffy lips, and Dean had what I suspected were a couple of hickies peeking out from beneath the collar of his shirt.

Everyone ended up congregating beneath the balcony as Andon and Vanessa gathered themselves. Their joyous wails had died down, and now the two of them simply held each other and marveled at seeing the one they never thought they would again. Despite me only barely knowing the two, it was a touching moment, even more so when they shared a kiss, equal parts desperate and tender.

For the first time since seeing Andon, Vanessa tore her eyes away from him. “Does…does anyone want to explain how this is possible?”

When no one else attempted, Sam cleared his throat and stepped forward. “Uh, it sounds a little crazy, but…there’s…uh, you see, there’s a—”

Dean took over. “What my brother is oh-so-eloquently trying to say is that angels are real where we’re from, and some of them followed us here. Andon just so happened to be a vessel for one of these angels, and…” He shrugged. “Here he is.”

No one said a word for a few moments. Then, Danny burst into hysterical laughter.

“Silvan, what did you drug their food with?” he asked between humored breaths.

“Nothing,” Silvan answered, crossing his arms. “They’re telling the truth, I saw it myself.”

Danny’s chuckles slowed to a halt. “Wait…what? Are you serious?”

“Yeah,” Andon backed him up. “The angel’s name was Raziel. He…” He shuddered. “He made me do some awful things.”

“You were possessed by an angel?” Vanessa asked, more awed than skeptical. “But…you’re already an angel; to me, anyways.”

A wobbly, overjoyed smile returned to Andon’s face. “Goodness, I have missed you.”

While the two of them traded a few more kisses, Danny was still trying to figure out how Silvan was pulling off such a strange, cooperative prank.

“So not only is your brother just… _back_ ,” Danny thought aloud. “But now you’re telling me that angels, of all things, are real? I thought you weren’t religious!”

“I-I’m not!” Silvan agreed. “But they are real. Look, there’s one right here! Castiel is an angel.”

At the mention of his name, Castiel perked up, though he shied away under Danny’s initial scrutiny. He swiftly recovered and held himself high with pride, however, spreading his wings open as though to prove Silvan right.

“…The pretty-boy’s boyfriend is an angel,” Danny stated, still incredulous.

“Actually, I’m his fiancé now,” Castiel corrected, picking up Dean’s hand and showing off the ring.

If Sam had been drinking something at that moment, he would have spat it out all over the deck. “What?!”

“Oh yeah, uh,” Dean fumbled, “I was gonna mention that at some point.”

“But yes, I am an angel,” Castiel continued, unperturbed by the reaction. “A seraph, to be exact.”

“…A seraph,” Danny repeated, suspicion written over his every feature. “Alright then, can you show me your wings?”

Tilting his head, Castiel replied, “Not without unintentionally combusting your eyes in their sockets. I can do this instead.”

Holding out his palm, Castiel allowed blue grace to flow into his fingertips. It looked as though he had pure, blue ice flowing through his veins, setting his skin alight and casting a vibrant but contained glow. Danny’s lips parted and he stared, mesmerized by the light.

Once Castiel lowered and dimmed his hand, Danny murmured, “Holy fucking shit.”

Disregarding the profanity, Castiel smirked slightly at having proven himself. Dean patted him on the back, undeniably proud.

“This is amazing!” Danny exclaimed, rushing up into Castiel’s space. “Please, you have to tell me everything you can about your wings. I have to know how they relate to bird wings—are they similar, different? Are they divided into primaries and secondaries, o-or are they completely different? Are your feathers waterproof, do they molt? How do you fly with them?”

Danny went on and on, and Sam and Dean stepped aside to let him interview Castiel. Though at first overwhelmed by the volume of questions, I was sure Castiel would take care to listen and respond to every last one of Danny’s inquiries.

Chuckling warmly, Andon angled himself to face Silvan, Vanessa still refusing to let go of his side. “Danny is the same as I remember him.”

“He is our local bird nerd,” Silvan commented fondly, watching Danny with adoration as he prattled on about alulas and featherdown density.

Andon raised an eyebrow as he observed his brother’s expression. Silvan didn’t realize he was being watched, and flushed under his brother’s curiosity.

“Um…which reminds me.” Silvan awkwardly coughed. “He and I, ah…since you’ve been gone, we…”

His brother’s face lit up immediately. “Did you finally get together?”

Caught off guard, Silvan just dumbly nodded his head.

“Oh my gosh, finally!” Andon was laughing cheerfully. “I can’t believe it took me dying to make that happen!”

“You’re not going to make fun of us?” Silvan ventured, joy gradually creeping up his features.

“You think I was joking whenever I teased you?” Barking an especially loud laugh, Andon clarified, “I was being serious! You obviously always had a thing for each other!”

The flush on Silvan’s face grew. He laughed it off, too relieved to have his brother’s approval to be truly embarrassed.

I hung around Andon, Silvan, and Vanessa for a while longer, absently listening but not participating in their conversation. Dean stood nearby, and at first I didn’t notice when he slipped away. When I looked towards the sheltered entrance to the kitchen, I saw Sam gently pulling him over and initiating a hushed conversation.

_Well, I’ve been a stalker gremlin up to this point, why stop now?_ I reasoned with myself, slipping away unnoticed from the group and positioning myself nearby but out of sight of the kitchen door.

“…Engaged? Really?” Sam was saying.

“I know it’s sudden, but yeah,” Dean replied, absently admiring the sea glass wrapped around his ring finger. “You…got a problem with it?”

“No, I—no!” Sam refuted with a huff. “I’m just…surprised. I didn’t think you were the marrying type, and it came out of nowhere. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

Dean scoffed. “Of course I’m okay! I’m better than okay, I have a fiancé!”

“Yeah I just…wanted to know that you understand what a commitment that is. You and Cas are perfect together, but…you’ve been dating for barely a year.”

“Oh, I see what this is about,” Dean drawled, crossing his arms. “You think we’re rushing into this.”

“Well, no—not like that, I…”

Dean raised an unimpressed eyebrow.

“…Okay, maybe I’m a little worried you’re rushing into this.”

Sighing, Dean lowered his defensive stance. “I get it, but…my mind’s made up. After what Chuck said, Cas and I talked, and…it just feels right.”

Still uncertain, Sam doubted, “And I’m happy for you, really. I just wouldn’t have expected you to…”

“To what? Settle down?” The faintest trace of hurt leaked into Dean’s voice. “To want something more permanent than hookups?”

“Of course not!” Sam denied. “I know you’re more than that, and that you really like Cas. Just…” Sam braced himself. “You’re sure he’s the one? You’re _sure_? I don’t want you or him to run into this too eagerly and end up heartbroken.”

Dean could only stare at his brother. He shook his head, donning a confident smile. “Yeah, he’s the one. It’s not like I’ve known him for only a year, he’s been with us for way longer. This is just another way of making up for lost time.”

Before Sam could say anything else, Dean went on a rambling torrent.

“I’ve only slept with the guy once,” he emphasized. “And even before that, I already knew that he was it for me, bottom line. That should tell you just how serious I am about this.” A small laugh burbled in his throat. “I mean yeah, the guy’s obviously attractive, both in his vessel and true form, but there’s…” He huffed, his cheeks turning rosy. “There’s this…there’s a lot more emotion, you know? Like a lot more than I’m used to, even romantically speaking. I’m just…really, genuinely…inlovewithhim” he exhaled rapidly.

Sam blinked, grinning. “Uh, yeah Dean, I’ve kinda noticed.”

Rosiness growing, Dean cleared his throat. “Oh. Right.” Gathering his confidence, he challenged, “Well, is that enough for you, or do you wanna take up a role as our marriage counselor?”

Chuckling and dropping his guard, Sam joked, “Is there an opening for that position?”

“Wha—no!” Dean reflexively shot back, picking up on Sam’s teasing tone a moment too late.

Patting his brother on the shoulder, Sam headed back outside. “I’m not actually that worried, I just wanted to hear you say all that to be sure. Congrats on the engagement, really. I’m happy for both of you.” 

He left a befuddled Dean in his wake. Dean remained in the kitchen for a while longer, pondering what Sam had said, and shook himself as he made to rejoin the rest of the group.

…Until, that is, he happened to look sideways and catch sight of me.

I raised a shy hand in acknowledgment. “Heeeey…”

“Were you snooping again?” Dean asked, though he sounded more amused than anything.

“Maybe,” I replied noncommittally. “Congrats on the engagement, by the way! You and Cas will be great husbands.”

“Thanks,” Dean said, looking bashfully to the side. “Were you, uh…conspiring with Cas on the whole proposal thing, too?”

“Actually, I wasn’t!” I answered honestly. “I was just as surprised as you. I don’t think he was really planning it, but…the time was right.”

Dean’s mouth twitched upwards. “Damn right it was.”

“I’m invited to the wedding, right?”

Though startled by the question, Dean answered, “Y-yeah, of course! Actually, you know, you could be—”

Everything went numb and black in an instant. Every sound, feeling, and sight disappeared save for Dean. I stumbled back and fell, hitting a solid nothing beneath me. Nothing was everywhere, just empty, sensationless blackness except for my own form, which was somehow lit and colored despite the lack of any light.

Thankfully for the racing panic in my chest, Dean was still present, standing above me. He looked awfully shaken himself, but still extended a hand to help me rise back to my feet.

“We’re…we’re back here,” I mumbled, recalling the place—this was where my Genie and his feline bosses had confronted us over a week ago.

After he made sure I was stable enough to stand on my own, Dean scanned the surrounding abyss. “Sam? Cas?”

“O-over here!” a startled Sam called back. I saw both him and Castiel not too far in the distance, standing relative to where they’d been back in the Villa. Thankfully, they both looked unharmed and were easily visible, although Castiel’s wings were practically impossible to see in the inky blackness without any reflections.

On instinct, Dean dashed to them. I followed suit, terror still tremoring through me. No one was sure of what to say, and I was stricken with an illogical fear that anything I tried to say would be swallowed up in the overbearing emptiness.

“…Where are they?” Sam asked, glancing about. “Shouldn’t the genie be here? Or those giant cats?”

I felt more than saw the way they looked at me, expecting an explanation. “I-I don’t know, I don’t know how any of this works.”

“You should by now,” another irritated voice grumbled.

Team Free Will spun around, immediately on the defensive. They only relaxed somewhat upon seeing that my Genie had finally made himself known, although he was still entrapped in a cage of swirling space dust.

Gripping two of the galaxy-filled bars of his enclosure, my Genie squinted at us. Oddly, he didn’t have an overt aura of contempt as he typically did; rather, he seemed…downtrodden.

His shades weren’t even on his face, instead discarded in the cage’s back corner. His glowing, magical eyes were dimmer than usual, and his tan features drooped with insurmountable exhaustion. His unseemly pinstripe suit was rumpled and loose, in desperate need of a good ironing. Despite everything he’d put us through, the empath in me truly felt bad about the state he was in.

“Please tell me that you mustered something,” the genie begged hopelessly. “Something that might just restore not only your wish, but my life’s work as well.”

Under a spotlight, I stuttered, “U-um, we tried to help the island of Dominica—it got hit by a hurricane, s-so—”

The faintest spark of hope lifted the genie’s features. “Really? Did you…command relief efforts? Foster an international recovery initiative?”

My insides contracted. No, we hadn’t done anything even close to that, it wouldn’t have been possible.

When I didn’t answer, my genie desperately threw out more options. “If not that, then something! Did you sponsor a family, start a GoFundMe?”

I shrank away further, still unable to speak. The shame was overwhelming.

Hope slowly bled out of the genie’s face. “What… _did_ you do?”

Swallowing, I admitted, “Sam repaired a local communication line, Dean helped rebuild some of a house, and…Cas and I…uprooted a bunch of invasive vines.”

The genie just stared at us. “That’s it? All your efforts amounted to rebooting a wi-fi router, hammering some nails into wood, and _weedkilling_? That was the best you could do?!”

My eyes couldn’t meet his. I braced myself for an onslaught of belittling insults to chip away at my already fractured self-confidence, but it never came. Instead, a defeated sigh echoed from the cage, followed by a slump as the genie slid to the floor in a heap.

“I don’t know what I expected,” he said quietly. “But I should have known better than to expect a miracle out of you four.”

Every word he said only added another unit of weight into the guilt accumulating in my gut. “I’m…sorry.”

The genie looked up and glared directly at me. “You should be,” he hissed.

For some reason, that stung me the most. I hid my face, willing my eyes to stay dry but knowing it would do no good. No one could see under the cupped palm I held to my forehead, but I feared the display of vulnerability nonetheless.

“You’re hardly in any place to talk,” Sam countered. “It’s not like you’ve done anything to earn your business back. That’s not our job, it’s yours.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” the genie snarked, radiating pure, toxic sarcasm. “I’ve been stuck in a cage between dimensions for a week, I haven’t exactly been able to put forward my peak performance.”

“Perhaps if you’d run your business with more integrity,” Castiel chipped in, “you would have less reason to deserve this punishment.”

My genie should have snapped back with an instant rebuttal like he always did, except that he didn’t. Discreetly wiping my eyes, I peered back up at him. Fury steamed under his surface, but it didn’t erupt. Instead, it bubbled harmlessly behind his eyes.

Shutting his eyes, the genie defended, “All I wanted to do was run the perfect wishing business. And yes, maybe I was a little out of line in some places, but I had to be if I wanted to keep up my reputation.”

“Doesn’t matter much now,” Dean pointed out. “Your bosses found out what you did. Serves you right if you ask me.”

Then, an emotion I could have never predicted appeared on my genie’s face: guilt. His guilt nearly reflected my own, and my intuition had a good idea of why.

“I’ve…given it a lot of thought,” the genie hesitated, swallowing. “Having an imperfect business is still better than having no business at all. I…I should’ve known my backstage dealings would catch up to me someday. If I could, I’d change it, but my last hope was riding on you, and you failed.”

With that, he pouted and maneuvered until his back was to us, his shoulders slumped. Clearly, he didn’t want to talk to us anymore, which was fine by my companions. Yet still, sympathy panged somewhere in me for his predicament. He was just as stuck as us, about to lose the one thing he valued and needed most, and even if it wasn’t actually my responsibility, I still felt like it was my fault.

“Don’t listen to that douchebag,” Dean told me. “He’s just trying to drag you down to where he is.”

“I’d watch my language if I were you,” the genie advised, his back still staunchly turned to us. “My bosses are nearly here.”

And sure enough, the next moment I looked upwards, the two massive, multiversal cats had appeared, fixing us with piercing, entrancing stares. Elle watching us curiously, her sparkling eyes dragging over each of us, while Prism absently swished her tail back and forth, filling the air with impossibly layered tinkling.

“Mrowl,” Elle stated, her voice echoing in the abyss.

My friends and I looked at each other, no more able to understand her speech than before. Upon realizing this, Elle let out a sharp “Mrow!” in the direction of the genie.

“For god’s sake, generate closed captions or something!” he lashed out, hunching down further and refusing to look at anyone.

Though she scowled, showing off her pearly teeth, Elle flicked her tail. A long, narrow rectangle made of the same spacey material as the cage popped into existence beneath the two cats.

[Oh, this is great!] appeared in the box when Prism mewed. [Why didn’t we just do this earlier?]

Elle let out a series of mrowls, replacing Prism’s words with her own. [Because I assumed Radishe would have wanted to feel useful.]

Silence. Then, Sam bravely asked, “…Who’s Radishe?”

Slight shock tickled Elle’s face. [[Y/N]’s genie never told you his name?]

One by one, we turned to look at the genie in question, who had raised his hackles.

“Your name’s Radish?” Dean asked, laughing between each syllable.

“Ra _dishe_!” my genie vehemently corrected, red creeping up his neck. “It sounds far more elegant in my native tongue!” As an afterthought, he grumbled, “It isn’t my fault that your worlds have ridiculously-shaped roots that sound like my name…”

Prism trilled, corresponding to a row of [Hee hee hee]’s that appeared in the caption box.

[Regardless,] Elle interceded, [we must get on with the proceedings. So…] Her intense, swirling gaze rested on me. [[Y/N]? Would you care to present your case for why your wish should remain intact?]

Throat drying up, I was paralyzed on the spot. This was my one remaining shot at getting to stick with my surrogate family, the friends I couldn’t bear to part from. I’d fought anxiety off multiple times since this trip began, but never before had it felt more crucial to do so than that moment.

“I…” Troubled by the fragility in my voice, I cleared my throat and started again. “My friends and I travelled to Dominica, which had been hit by hurricane Maria not too long ago. The island was devastated, and even though it was recovering, it still had a long way to go.”

Both felines looked intrigued by that opening. Emboldened, I pressed on.

“I saw and met people who had lost their livelihoods to Maria. My friend Silvan even confided in me that he lost his home and only brother, and the entire time I was with him he worked himself down to the bone just to try to support his family and forget his loss. And the devastation I saw there was horrifying. I don’t think I could ever forget it…

“I wanted to help, but I felt powerless. I didn’t know how to repair an entire island, so aside from supporting people where we could, we took on smaller tasks we were suited to. Sam not only gave refuge to a stray puppy, but also repaired the broken lines of internet and cellular communication in the village of Calibishie, where we stayed. Dean socialized and built connections with local Dominicans, which was no more evident than when he joined a Calibishie building crew to rebuild a home lost to the storm. And Cas…he immersed himself in the natural wonders of Dominica, collecting, treasuring, and safeguarding the beauty of its land. With my help, we cleared nearly an entire section of vital farmland of an invasive weed to free up space for much-needed agriculture.”

Breathing deep to calm my nerves, I concluded my case. “They were little things, but they helped. It takes more than four people—even when three of them are literal world-altering heroes—to fix an entire country.” A small smile tugged at my lips. “And like our friend Silvan said, even a little help is still help. It’s a combination of the little jobs people do that add up and make a difference.”

Feeling satisfied, I stepped back from my imaginary pedestal. All I could do was hope that Elle and Prism found our efforts worthy.

Tilting her head to the side, Elle asked, [Is that all you did?]

Panic clenched in my chest. No, no, it hadn’t been enough after all, I knew it, I’d failed yet again and condemned everyone else to—

“Actually,” Sam interrupted my racing thoughts. “There’s…quite a bit more. [Y/N] also mended a friendship between Silvan and one of his oldest friends. As a matter of fact, she helped them admit their romantic interest in each other, and now they’re happier than ever!”

Prism’s eyes lit up. [I do love a good romance!]

Encouraged, Castiel also stepped forward to offer his support. “She also bravely fought to fend off one of my brethren, Raziel, when he threatened our lives. If she hadn’t, it was likely that we and Silvan would have perished.”

“And she freed his vessel, too!” Dean added. “Andon, Silvan’s lost brother. It was just luck that he ended up there, but [Y/N] forced Raziel out of him. All it took was a little deep-fryin’ of holy oil and a lot of courage.” A confident smirk grew on his face as he recalled another detail. “Andon even told us that it, and I quote, made ‘a world of difference’ to him and Silvan. Plus, his girlfriend Vanessa got to reunite with him, and—it was all just sweet, chick-flick stuff that meant a lot to them. None of it woulda happened if we hadn’t been there, though!”

Considering this, Elle squinted into space. [That…does add a lot for us to consider. However…]

[Did the good changes really impact things on a large scale?] Prism continued. [Everything you did was really, really, sweet, but…]

My thoughts were back to racing, spinning endlessly round and round a go kart track and getting nowhere. There had to be something else, something bigger to tip the scales. _Think, what else did they do, what else did they do, what else did they do—_

“[Y/N] averted several apocalypses,” Castiel blurted out.

My thoughts fell silent and stagnant. Everyone turned to stare at the angel; even my genie finally turned around to look towards us.

Maintaining his resolve under all the attention, Castiel elaborated, “Once we came to trust her, one of the first things [Y/N] ever told us was that we had to stop attempting to close the gates of Hell. If we didn’t, it would unleash a series of catastrophic entities and events that would plague us and our world at large. I didn’t realize the true extent of it until I heard it from my father.”

Elle’s ears swiveled about. [Your father? As in God, the primordial entity responsible for the creation of your world?]

“He also goes by Chuck,” Dean quipped.

“Um…yes,” Castiel agreed. “My father, God—or Chuck, if you prefer.”

While Elle squinted suspiciously at the angel, Prism frowned. The latter’s eyes grew wide and round, reminiscent of a kitten.

[Your dad’s been hiding for centuries and centuries and centuries,] Prism pointed out. [How could he have told you?]

“I’ve decided to do a little bit of intervention,” Chuck’s voice interjected, followed swiftly by the man himself as he strode in from behind our group. “Just to keep the peace.”

Feeling myself going bug-eyed at his sudden reappearance, I stepped aside and let him stand in front of Elle and Prism, as did Team Free Will.

“Father…you’re back,” Castiel commented, confused but too happy about his dad’s return to care.

“It sounded like you could use my help,” Chuck said. “If I’m gonna stop being such an absent father, this is a good place to start.”

Grinning, Castiel bowed and stepped back fully, leaving his father to stand as a key witness for our case.

[My my,] Elle said after a lengthy pause. [This is unexpected. Chuck, is it?]

“Yep, uh…that’s me,” Chuck confirmed, slipping his hands in his pockets and rocking on his feet slightly.

[Wow!] Prism gushed. [A primordial creation entity emerging after so long! So cool…]

Chuckling at the cat’s enthusiasm, Chuck started, “Sooo…you need me to back up what I told my son?”

Elle gave a single, strong nod. [That would be most appreciated, yes.]

“Alright then,” Chuck said, clapping his hands and rubbing his palms together. “Basically, [Y/N] back there had foreknowledge of what was gonna happen to her friends, so she steered them down a different path. In doing so, she not only helped them and a lot of other people, but she literally averted multiple apocalypses that would have happened otherwise. And sure, Sam and Dean may have been able to avert those apocalypses, but…it saved them a lot of hassle, worldwide suffering, and collateral.”

Both cats’ eyes drifted towards me. I had to force myself not to cower, pushing back my shoulders and exerting a confidence I couldn’t feel.

“Basically,” Chuck continued, “she saved the world several times over, which wouldn’t have been possible without her wish. Add that to all the actions and intentions she, Sam, Dean, and Castiel showed in Dominica, and…” He shrugged. “I’d say that’s a pretty large scale overall.”

Hope rekindled in my chest. Holy crap, this may actually work after all…

Neither one of the cats’ expressions betrayed what they were thinking. I fidgeted with my fingers, dropping them abruptly when I fell under Elle and Prism’s scrutiny once more.

[You’ve presented a solid case,] Elle intoned. [But do you think it’s enough to warrant keeping your wish?]

[Think hard!] Prism encouraged.

Regardless of what Prism said, I was already thinking hard; overthinking, actually. Of course I _wanted_ it to be enough so I could keep my wish, but was it _really_ enough? Though I had beaten myself up over this entire conundrum so many times up to that point, I did hold pride in what we’d managed to accomplish. Still, my learned doubts picked away at any sense of worthiness I had, weakening my resolve.

Though I couldn’t see it in the murk, I could feel the lightest brush of a feathery blanket along my shoulder. Castiel had a wing extended, a symbol of him backing and supporting me. I caught Sam’s gaze, and he smiled at me, reminding me of the support and help he’d offered up to that point, even soothing me through a panic attack only yesterday. And Dean—suave Dean gave me the subtlest thumbs-up and wink combo I’d ever seen executed, putting me utterly at ease.

Pride radiated off all three of them, instilling itself amongst my doubts and clouding over them. If Team Free Will believed I was worthy, then hell, in that moment I sure must have been.

“Yes,” I decided, pleasantly surprised by the steadiness in my voice. “I think it’s enough.”

Elle and Prism were silent for a few agonizing moments. Then, Prism’s resolve broke and a massive smile overtook her face.

[Congratulations!] she cheered. [Our verdict is in your favor!]

As that set in, I could hardly contain myself. I laughed breathlessly, looking at all the relieved, bright expressions my friends wore. Ahead of us, Chuck smiled as his form wavered and dissipated in a tiny puff of mist, presumably back to his own world.

Off in his cage, my genie—Radishe, I reminded myself with a grin—stared in utter disbelief, his mouth hanging open. I was too overjoyed to focus on him for long, though, and turned back to his bosses.

“Thank you!” I gushed. “Thank you, really, I—”

[It wasn’t so much our doing,] Elle calmly interrupted. [You were the one who deemed yourself worthy. We had our verdict—you were the final deciding factor that made it a reality.]

Huffing, Dean commented, “Cheesy, but hey, it works.”

[And, and, and,] Prism eagerly chattered, [we already knew all the stuff you and your friends did! We just wanted to hear you all present them to help us make a better verdict!]

The millions of rainbow shards on Prism’s back half shimmered. Several of them flashed with images and scenes from our time on Dominica, like clusters of tiny, filtered television screens. There were far too many to make out clearly, although I caught a few: Castiel arranging his work-in-progress nest, Sam walking Eve and Jack with Silvan early in the morning, Dean carrying the brittle star along Batibou beach’s shoreline while I doused water over it…

“You even knew about [Y/N]’s effects on our world?” Castiel inquired.

Elle nodded. [Yes, we were aware.]

Swishing her massive tail in excitement, Prism added, [I just really, really wanted to see Chuck for myself. I’m such a fan of his work; his world is so dark and riddled with complexities and death!]

The mirthful, innocent expression Prism wore as she meowed that made me burst into a fit of giggles.

[Excuse her, she’s somewhat of a fangirl,] Elle fondly commented. [But…consider your wish and its inherent power restored to you. You can travel freely between worlds once more.]

That was beyond fine and dandy with me, but as I rewound the events that led up to this…I remembered one remaining issue.

“Wait!” I exclaimed. “What about…um, the multiversal anomaly? With the investigators tracking us through Alaska?”

[Consider that done as well!] Prism chirped. [Provided you received a verdict in your favor, we planned to pull a few minor strings to get that all cleaned up.] She winked. [Multiversal powers are pretty awesome. You don’t have to worry about it anymore, it'll be like it never happened!]

Another sigh of relief passed my lips. The compounding stress from that entire investigation had only made this all the worse as time wore on.

[If that is all…] Elle meowed, [you’re free to leave now. Be mindful of multiversal anomalies in the future; that’s the only request I make of you.]

Prism’s tail swished as she held it high. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of my genie’s despondent expression, and made a split-second decision.

“Hold on!” I cried, and Prism lowered her tail. “Um…about my genie.”

The head of the genie in question twitched towards me, hesitance written all over his features.

[Radishe?] Elle asked, sparing him a glance before turning her full attention back to me. [What about him?]

I heaved a breath. There was no way to sugarcoat my genie’s actions, but as lingering sympathy surged in my being, I knew I had to at least try. Once upon a time he’d given me a second chance when, arguably, I didn’t deserve it. The time had finally arrived for me to repay the favor.

“I know his business practices were…um, a little shady,” I admitted. “But he did good work! And I’m not just saying that because he granted my wish; for example, I know that he granted the wish of a girl named Chloe so she could get away from an awful foster family. How he went about enforcing contracts wasn’t the best, but his intentions always started out in the right place.”

My friends watched me, wrapped in a state of silent befuddlement. Whatever they thought of Radishe, I couldn’t live with myself knowing what I’d condemn him to by leaving. And if the way he looked at me with slightly less hesitance was any indication, he knew what I was doing.

“He’d be too prideful to admit to you,” I continued, “but he told me that he regrets what he did. He wants to start over and do things right this time. I wouldn’t feel right leaving here with my wish intact while all his other clients lose theirs because of his mistakes, and since I was lucky enough to get a second chance from you…I think it’s only fair that he gets another chance, too.”

The slightest gasp echoed from the cage. I fought a smile.

Both Elle and Prism stared at me, stoically considering my argument. Elle in particular looked pensive, her gaze hardening as it flicked towards the genie’s cage. Yet, it quickly softened when she saw the state Radishe was in.

I joined her in looking, and my sympathy resurged at the sight. Radishe’s mouth was agape, his supernatural blue eyes brimming with guilt, hope, and fear all at once. 

Elle and Prism exchanged glances, silently communicating. After some deliberation, Elle solemnly bowed her head.

[You make a fair point,] she conceded. [Although Radishe has proved a…troublesome genie, it is only fair that he be given another chance just as you have.]

One flick of Elle’s tail later, and the front wall of bars blocking Radishe in the cage swung open, promptly followed by the entire cage disintegrating into swirling, galaxy-like particles before dissipating completely. Radishe looked shocked, numbly reaching for his sunglasses and holding them tightly in his lap. He looked almost like a sad puppy when he met his bosses’ gazes.

“I—” He stopped himself, shaking his head and standing up. “You won’t regret this, I promise. I’m turning over a new, better leaf. I’ll be the best genie this side of the multiverse!”

Confidence rebuilding itself, Radishe flicked his shades open with a smooth twist of his wrist and pushed them over his face. Remnants of his snarky attitude were still plenty evident, although they seemed muted for the time being. Just as he was about to turn on his heel and run off to get back to business, he stopped and glanced back at me. It was hard to see what he was feeling behind the mask of his shades, but his tiny, uncontrollable smile said it all.

“Thanks, kid,” he said, and with the tiniest remnant of bright blue light, he disappeared.

[I hope we don’t regret that decision,] Elle fretted. [It’s time for you go home, too. It’s been a pleasure…enjoy your wish.]

Beaming, Prism picked up her clinking, multi-faceted tail again and swished it fully through the empty space. And just like that, we were back on the Villa’s deck.

Nothing had changed since we disappeared. Silvan, Andon, and Vanessa were still chatting about the same topic as when we’d left them. The only discrepancy was Danny, who scanned his surroundings for a moment before spotting Castiel and dragging him right back into his fanatic bird interview.

Huh…evidently, our slips into the area between worlds removed us not only from space, but also from time. Good to know.

There wasn’t much left to be said or done after that. Danny concluded his interrogation of Castiel, joining Silvan by the poolside and inquiring about the “red dye” swirling around in the water. Vanessa and Andon pushed two chairs together and cuddled, relishing the silent nearness. Before long, the Dominican sun had begun its descent, staining the sky orange and pink.

I knew that Team Free Will would need to get home, as would I. I pondered the loose ends of our journey, any remaining things I could work out before leaving (other than our Dungeons and Dragons session; I most definitely intended to continue that at a later, more stable date once we’d all recovered from recent events).

One idea in particular struck a chord with me. “Hey, do you still have that brittle star?” I asked Castiel.

“Yes,” he confirmed. “It’s still resting in our nest and healing remarkably quickly.”

Beaming, I ran upstairs and grabbed the water bowl the star called home. Castiel was right; its missing leg was already branching back out, and before long it would be the same length as its other four limbs.

When I brought the bowl downstairs to Castiel, he knew what we had to do. Without a word, he placed a hand on my shoulder and flew us to the beach below the Villa.

The waves were even more gorgeous than usual with the sunset cast over their crests. I scanned the shoreline for a while, peeking into crevices in the rocks that separated the shore from deeper water. One spot, a deep cranny sheltered from the surf in a cragged, brown stone, caught my eye.

Slipping the makeshift aquarium underwater, I gently tipped it over until the branch of coral—and the brittle star attached to it—gently tumbled out into the sanctuary. Although I knew it could neither hear nor see me, let alone comprehend my presence, I murmured a heartfelt “good luck” to it before retreating from the water’s edge.

Standing back to admire the grandeur of the sea at sunset, a wistfulness set in. With each crash of the waves, I felt an impending loss.

“I’m gonna miss the ocean,” I sighed, my head bobbing with the surf.

Castiel graced me with a quizzical look. “It…isn’t going anywhere. Anytime that you wish, you can bring me to your world and I can teleport you to it.”

“Yeah, but…I dunno. There’s something about it—I feel like, now that I’ve experienced it here in these conditions, if I come back to it later…it won’t be the same.”

Nodding in understanding, Castiel stared back out at the ocean’s rhythm. “I understand. But it will always be here, and so will we.” He hummed with warm laughter. “If you or the Winchesters should ever want a beach vacation, I think we know where we’ll go.”

Somehow, that comforted the strange itch of longing beneath my skin. Finally feeling that I could smile again, I agreed, “Yeah: right heckin’ here.”

We opted to take the long way back to the Villa, following the trail in all its glory. Despite all the things that had come and gone, new horizons awaited just ahead, not the least of which was an upcoming wedding. I smiled and let the tropical warmth carry me onwards, the ocean’s retreating symphony soothing my soul as I knew everything was going to be alright.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaaaand that's the end of the "main" storyline! There are still two chapters left that occur at later dates, so those will be posted in due time to wrap everything up and pile on as much fluff to this ice cream sundae of ridiculousness as possible. Yes...we still have a wedding to look forward to, and even a little bonus drabble that popped into my head. Stay tuned! ;)
> 
> Both photos belong to me and were made past midnight on a spur-of-the-moment bout of inspiration :,) I'm gonna suffer for it in the morning but for now it's worth it


	10. In which you get a job as a wedding bouncer, Dean becomes a dance instructor, Cas’s family embarrasses him, and Sam makes a leaning tower of pie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy pride month y'all!! ^w^

_6/15/18_

From my relatively limited knowledge of wedding planning, I’d assumed it to be a stressful undertaking. In reality, for me at least, it turned out to be the time of my life.

And okay, maybe that was because the wedding in question was an informal gathering that fit within loose guidelines rather than structured planning, and _maybe_ it was the fact that it was my favorite couple in the multiverse being wed that made it so easy for me.

Whatever the case, I had a ball. It gave me something to focus on after inevitably returning from Dominica, something for me to pour all my focus into while at home. It extended the peace of our vacation, providing me with a positive outlet and an excuse to seclude myself in my bedroom for days.

Now, it should be noted that no one actually officially assigned me the job of wedding planner. In fact, Dean and Castiel had insisted that they wouldn’t need one. Dean wasn’t one for big ceremonies, and Cas scarcely had a clue what a real wedding consisted of, so it was just easier to play it by ear.

But, whether the occasion possessed any degree of pomp and circumstance or not, at the very least I was going to put together a cheesy playlist and insist on a time slot for dancing.

The wedding was set for mid-June, and on the morning of the event, I shot out of bed, grabbed my phone, Bluetooth speaker, and a little wedding present. I wasted no time in pulling up Netflix on my phone and navigating to my chosen image of the Men of Letters bunker. I intended to be present for every last second of the proceedings, and with one eager press of my finger, I was there.

I appeared in the library, which was unusually empty. The tables had been pushed aside somewhat to open up the space, creating a pathway that looked suspiciously like a wedding aisle.

Humming with giddy laughter, I stashed my speaker on one of the tables and twirled around towards the war room. I stopped dead in my tracks when I saw Dean pacing back and forth, shouting at someone over the phone.

“No, we are _not_ inviting you!”

A belligerent British voice responded through the phone’s speaker. “Why the bloody hell not?”

“Is that Crowley?” I chuckled, unheard.

“Do you know just how big of a deal this is?” Crowley’s voice demanded, distorted by the crackling of the receiver. “Demons have been gossiping about you two for centuries now. You know how time moves faster in Hell? Yeah, _literally_ centuries’ worth of gossip about you and feathers. You are the power couple of the supernatural realm, and I think it’s only fair that I, as the king and foremost representative of Hell, be present to witness your union!”

“Absolutely not,” Dean lowly countered.

“ _Why not?_ ” Crowley repeated impatiently.

“Oh, I dunno, ‘cause you’re a demon and pretty much guaranteed to make a mess? In case you’ve forgotten, you're one of our nemeses!”

“Just invite him, Dean,” Sam groaned from another room. “You’ve been arguing with him on the phone for fifteen minutes already.”

Glaring up at the ceiling and collecting himself, Dean conceded, “Fine, you’ve invited! But you step one toe outta line and we’re exorcising you on the spot.”

Angrily hanging up, Dean took a breath to calm himself down. Meanwhile, I fought not to succumb to a gelastic seizure in the next room over. Dean only noticed when one sputter of giggles got past my defenses, and his demeanor immediately softened.

“Oh, hey kiddo,” he greeted. “Didn’t hear you get here.”

“Do you ever?” I teased, descending the steps into the war room. “So, you’re really inviting Crowley?”

“I guess,” Dean sighed, frowning. “He won’t be in any place to do much of anything. Cas said his dad insisted on leading the ceremony when he heard about the proposal, so…” He smirked slightly. “I think Chuck can dish out a little heavenly wrath if Crowley’s dumb enough to try anything.”

“I’m kinda excited to meet him, actually,” I admitted.

“Don’t be,” Dean deadpanned. “He’s a douche.”

Thinking back to the later seasons of Supernatural, I countered, “Well, would you believe me if I said that at one point, you and him were literally supposed to be besties?”

Dean’s eyebrows shot up. “Yeah, as if. Can’t imagine what coulda made that happen.”

Images of a black-eyed Dean infringed on my thoughts, and I decided it was probably for the best I didn’t say anything.

“So, uh…” I began, grappling for a change in subject. “Who else is invited?”

“Lemme see…” Dean trailed off, counting on his fingers. “Kevin, Charlie, Jody, Garth…and I know Cas invited Claire, and he said something about one of his angel brothers coming too.”

An uncontrollable grin crept onto my face. “Oh my gosh, I’ve always wanted to meet, like…all of them!”

“Well, now’s your chance. Just…” Dean’s eyes darted away. “Don’t freak ‘em out with your otherworldly fangirl stuff, alright? Other than Charlie, I don’t think any of ‘em are gonna get it.”

“No problem!” I chirped, saluting theatrically. “I’ll be on my best behavior, I promise!”

Grinning fondly, Dean teased, “Sure you will, you lil’ stinker.”

“In the meantime, uh…” I glanced around the bunker, which aside from the slight alterations to the library looked much the same as it always did. “Is there anything I can do to help prepare for the wedding?”

“Sam’s in the kitchen trying to throw together some food so people won’t go hungry. I think he’d appreciate some help.”

“I’m on it!” I dutifully replied. “If you need help with anything else, just let me know!”

Slightly startled by my enthusiasm, Dean observed, “You’re…really excited for this, huh?”

“Of course! You are too, aren’t you? I mean, this is _your_ wedding, I’m just so happy for you and Cas!”

The staunch guard Dean worked so hard to maintain fell away from his face for just a moment. “Yeah, I…I am excited. Nervous, but really friggin’ excited. I didn’t think this would ever happen to me.”

“Well, you deserve it,” I assured him, spinning on my heel and all but skipping towards the kitchen.

“Oh, wait!” Dean called out, and I stopped in my tracks.

“Hmm?”

“I uh, meant to ask…since you’re basically my kid sister and all…” Dean scratched self-consciously at the nape of his neck. “Wouldja like to me my bridesmaid?”

Awe held me up by the shoulders, and I gaped for a few moments, barely able to believe it. “You want… _me_ to be a bridesmaid? But…there’s no bride at this wedding.”

“It’s a gay, interspecies wedding being ordained by God himself,” Dean countered. “I think we can bend the rules a little.”

He had a point. Too thrilled to care, I gushed, “Yeah, of course I’ll be your bridesmaid! Um…do you have a best man too? Let me guess, is it Sam?”

“Obviously,” Dean confirmed, grinning. “He volunteered before I could even ask him. He’s, uh…a little excited for this too.”

“I don’t blame him. It’s not every day your family gets a happy domestic occasion like this.”

A wistfulness briefly rolled over Dean’s features. “Yeah…you got that right.”

“I’m off to kitchen duty!” I announced. “You do whatever else you gotta to make sure everything is ready for you and your mister.”

Without waiting to see how Dean would react to that label, I marched down the nearest hallway and towards the bunker’s kitchen. Determination intermingled with my abounding anticipation. I far as I was concerned, I was a girl on a mission!

I found Sam spreading out a few bowls on the kitchen counter, one full to the brim with cheese puffs, another piled high with pretzels, and the last sporting a rainbow of M&Ms. Sam himself boasted a black tux and maroon bowtie, which suddenly made me self-conscious about my informal attire.

“You need some help?” I offered, discreetly swiping and crunching down on a pretzel.

“Oh, hey [Y/N]!” Sam replied, frazzled. “Uh, yeah, sure. Could you fill this up with pork rinds?”

A fourth bowl was unceremoniously shoved into my hands. Switching into work mode, I grabbed the plastic bag of rinds from the counter and began pouring them in. Sam, meanwhile, busied himself with stuffing as many potato chips into another bowl as physically possible.

A couple more bowls of snacks later, and we had a formidable lineup of junk food to choose from. I couldn’t help but pick at some of the offerings; I’d been in such a hurry to arrive at the bunker that I’d skipped breakfast.

“Well, it’s no gourmet buffet,” I said, “but it’s pretty awesome.”

“Had to make do with what we had in the bunker,” Sam sighed. “Dean didn’t wanna go shopping for anything extravagant, but food is pretty much required at a wedding, so…”

“Speaking of which…” I realized. “Is there gonna be a cake?”

Sam frowned. “Dean mandated a ‘no wedding cakes’ rule.” A devious glint lit his features. “But…I found a loophole, and I think he’s gonna like it.”

Leaning down towards the bunker’s ancient oven, Sam flipped a switch that illuminated its inner racks. My hunger surged to unprecedented levels when I saw what was inside: four pies of different sizes and flavors.

“Oh, that is genius,” I breathed, sniffing to catch wafts of the baking fruit and crust.

“Cas and I conspired to come up with the idea,” Sam preened. “We’ve got blueberry, apple, cherry, and peach. I’ve been keeping them in the oven so they stay warm, but…it’s so close to the wedding now, we can probably take ‘em out. You wanna help me stack them?”

“Like a tiered-cake-pie-thing?” I gushed, beaming as I imagined how unique—and tasty—the end result would be. “Absolutely!”

Extracting the pies from the oven was a delicate balance of oven mitts and cooling racks. I was impressed by the quality of each pie; they were certainly homemade, with imperfect lines of dough, but the bulging globs of fruit beneath looked absolutely delectable.

“I didn’t know you knew how to bake,” I commented, drinking in the smells of warm jam.

“I don’t really,” Sam denied, flushing slightly. “Cas did most of the work anyways, I just showed him the basics of the kitchen. He really wanted it to be perfect for Dean.”

A gooey “aww” lodged itself into my esophagus, but I settled for hugging my sides to restrain any noises.

Once I’d gathered my wits, I asked, “Where is Cas, anyways? I wanna congratulate him and make sure he’s ready!”

“I think he’s with Chuck,” Sam replied doubtfully. “His dad’s been, uh…pretty psyched about this whole thing. He said it was the kind of thing he thought could only happen in fanfiction of his work.”

I nodded. “That makes sense.”

“Anyways, Cas is supposed to be here before long,” Sam continued, angling and stacking the first of the pies atop each other. “So should the guests, actually. We didn’t set a specific time, but we told everyone to get here at about noon.”

“Ooh, ooh!” I chanted, leaping and down with my hand in the air like an overexcited preschooler. “Can I be the greeter? I’ll wait at the door and let them in!”

Nonplussed by my suggestion, Sam stammered, “U-uh, sure, if that’s what you wanna do.”

“Sweet,” I hissed to myself as I took off, leaving Sam to precariously balance the remaining pies.

On my way back to the war room, I passed Dean in the hallway. He jumped a little when he noticed me charging in his general direction, but I swept by him with a grin and nothing more.

The metal steps clanked underfoot as I ascended them towards the bunker’s secret front door. Only once I was right in front of said door did I remember that, oh yeah, I feared social situations and meeting new people with every fiber of my being. In all the time I’d been visiting the world of Supernatural, I’d never met any of these people face-to-face (except for Kevin, but that was just in passing when he was visiting the bunker for the day).

Still, this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity I’d been dreaming of, I reminded myself, so I sucked it up and bounced in place to force the tension out of my body.

Hardly a few minutes after I stationed myself at the platform at the top of the stairs, something thunked against the heavy, metal door beside me. An aborted yell caught in my throat, but I collected myself and unlatched the door, swinging it open.

Standing on the other side were Jody Mills and Claire Novak. They were a bit surprised to see me—they didn’t know who I was, after all—and I realized a few moments too late that I should say something instead of gaping at the pair.

“H-hi!” I greeted, waving a welcoming hand into the bunker. “Come on in, Jody, Claire.”

Both girls’ eyes widened slightly, but they cautiously stepped into the bunker. I kicked myself when I realized I didn’t even give them a chance to introduce themselves before calling them by name.

“So…you know us, huh?” Jody assumed. “Sam and Dean talk about us that much?”

“Y-yeah!” I compulsively confirmed, swinging the door shut. “I’m a real big fan of you guys! You’re both really cool.”

“Tch,” Claire quietly scoffed, but she sent me a slight grin. “Can’t say I’ve heard of you, though.”

“Oh, I’m [Y/N]!” I introduced myself. “I’m just a friend of the Winchesters, not a kickbutt hunter like either of you.” I perked up with pride as I recalled, “But I am gonna be Dean’s bridesmaid today!”

“Huh, so you’re the one he chose,” Claire said, looking me up and down. “I’m actually supposed to be Castiel’s bridesmaid. I agreed on the condition that I didn’t have to wear a dress.”  
A bout of laughter snorted past my lips. “I should’ve gotten Dean to agree to that, too! Not that he’d want me in formal wear, anyway. It’s the principle of the thing.”

The littlest of huffed chuckles escaped Claire at that moment. I performed an internal victory dance at getting Claire Novak, feisty child of the century, to laugh.

Another series of thunks echoed through the door, and again I only barely resisted yelling in surprise.

“Uh, Sam’s got food in the kitchen,” I babbled to Jody and Claire. “Feel free to help yourselves.”

With a polite nod, Jody ushered Claire down the stairs and towards the complimentary snacks. I took a deep breath and braced myself as I sized up the door once more, gently opening it to peer outside.

And who was waiting there but the precious ray of sunshine himself: Garth Fitzgerald. Even before he said a word, Garth emitted pure waves of sheer sweetness. Even though he obviously didn’t recognize me, he beamed upon seeing me, and I tried my hardest to return the expression.

“Well hey, you’re a new face!” Garth greeted brightly, amicably shaking my hand.

“I’m [Y/N], friend of the Winchesters,” I replied, stepping aside so Garth could enter. “And you must be Garth, right?”

“That’s me!” he confirmed, glancing around the bunker. “Say, uh, I know we weren’t supposed to bring wedding presents, but…I just couldn’t help myself. You think that’ll be alright?”

_Bless,_ I thought. _He looks genuinely worried about breaking that “rule.”_

Hoping to put his mind at ease, I replied, “That’s fine! I actually got a gift for them too, so…if Dean gets upset, you can just tell him it was my idea!”

Palpable relief lifted Garth’s face. “Phew, thanks…I’m gonna see if I find that big ol’ teddy bear and congratulate ‘im…”

Just as Garth took his first step down, I ran through the timeline of season nine in my head. I’d managed to avert a good number of personal tragedies through my fortunate intervention, but as for Garth’s…

“Wait!” I called impulsively. “Um…I was just wondering—and this might sound super weird—but are you…a werewolf?”

Something fearful flickered over Garth’s eyes, and I immediately regretted my question.

“It’s totally okay if you are! I know you can control yourself, Sam and Dean told me about it.”

That fearful something drained upon hearing that. Garth grinned. “Yeah, I am a werewolf. But I’ve never hurt anyone, and I don’t intend to start!”

“Oh trust me, I know,” I nodded emphatically. “You’re a good, good bean, you’d never hurt anyone.”

Garth’s cheeks scrunched up under the force of his smile. “Aww, thanks. That’s real sweet of you to say.”

Yup, Garth definitely radiated pure waves of physical sunshine. I’d always suspected as much, but experiencing it in person was quite the treat.

Several more minutes after Garth had left to find Dean, someone else thunked against the door. I was just as startled as the first two times, but in my defense, I’d taken out my phone to pass the time and had zoned out.

The familiar face of Kevin Tran awaited me on the other side of the door. He looked slightly less sleepy than usual, and his uber-casual attire made me feel much better about my own choice of simple clothes.

“Hey Kevin!” I greeted with a wave, fighting to keep the eagerness out of my voice.

“Hey,” he replied, stepping around the door as I shut it. “You’re…[Y/N], right?”

“Yeah!” I chirped. “I remember seeing you when you came to visit one time. It’s good to actually meet you properly!”

“Yeah, uh…” Kevin trailed off awkwardly. “You’re the nerd girl Sam and Dean talk about, right?”

“Probably.” I paused. “Unless they’re talking about Charlie. We’re both nerdy fangirls, but she easily beats me when it comes to coolness factor.”

“Whatever you say,” Kevin dismissed, smiling absently at the bunker’s interior. “Thanks for letting me in. I’m just glad to have a break from translating…”

“Relax as much as you want!” I encouraged. “Look after your health, physical and mental.”

Kevin was more than a little perplexed by my concern for his well-being, but I just couldn’t help it. I mean, if it weren’t for the altered state of this world’s timeline, he’d be dead from angel-induced combustion right now.

By now, I was prepared for any and all loud noises that could emanate from the door. Though I was confident nothing could startle me, I wasn’t at all ready for the actual King of Hell to simply teleport into existence a few feet away, bypassing the door entirely.

I gasped and clutched my chest, thoroughly shaken. Crowley just raised an eyebrow at me.

“Who’re you supposed to be?” he drawled in his low British voice.

Utterly petrified, I managed, “[Y/N]. Um, Winchester’s friend. Big fan? I mean, you’re cool—well, you kill and torture people which isn’t so great, but you have a fun attitude and—what I _mean_ to say is—”

“Don’t hurt yourself, darling,” Crowley interrupted. “Always pleased to meet a fan.”

The demon extended his hand, and against my better judgement, I reached out and shook it. His skin felt cold and inhuman. I shuddered a little before retracting my grip.

He slipped past me without another word, descending into the war room. I tried not to think about the physical chills that handshake had left me with as I waited for the next guest.

Last to arrive was the queen herself: Charlie Bradbury. I tried to reign myself in when she appeared on the other side of the door, I really did, but I just couldn’t.

“Charlie!” I cheered. I swear I must’ve had sparkles in my eyes.

Astonished but amused by the greeting, Charlie offered one of her awkward little grins and waddled through the doorway. “Hi, uh…who’re you?”

“I’m [Y/N],” I answered dismissively, eager to get to my next point. “I just wanted to say, and I know this is probably really weird and out of nowhere, but you’re, like, literally my role model.”

Charlie chuckled nervously, but her smile told me she appreciated it. “Wow, th-thanks! I’m not really sure what kind of role model I am, but…”

“You’re basically the ultimate fangirl! You’re passionate, respectful, crazy smart, and kickbutt all at the same time! You are the _queen_!”

Though she flushed from the praise, Charlie straightened out her posture, exhibiting pride. “That’s…wow.” She leaned in conspiratorially. “I get the feeling you’re a fangirl-type too, right?”

I beamed. “Oh, you have no idea.”

Reflecting my beam, Charlie whispered, “Bitchin’.”

The next fifteen odd minutes passed with me and Charlie discussing the ins and outs of subjects ranging from Harry Potter, Star Wars, and the Supernatural books. Of course, I couldn’t exactly let on just _how_ much I knew about the story of Supernatural, no matter how badly how I wanted to gush about it, so I treaded carefully on that frontier.

“Hey, hey,” I directed after a brief spot of laughing about the infamy of Winchester prank wars. “I gotta know: when did you figure out that Dean and Cas probably had a thing for each other?”

Snorting, Charlie replied, “I sorta had a gut feeling when I read about their meeting in the first of the unreleased books. Every one after that just made it more obvious…I was definitely sold by the time Lucifer rose. I mean, ‘I rebelled and I did it, all of it, for you?’ How cheesy and romantic can you get?”

“I know, right?” I nodded my head vigorously. “And now we’re here at their wedding. What even happened?”

“Something miraculous, I’ll tell you that,” Charlie said, popping a cheese puff in her mouth from the nearby bowl on the war table. “It’s one thing reading about a couple you ship, but actually meeting them as real people and attending their wedding is…so wild.”

I smirked. “You’re telling me.”

The small crowd of guests was milling about, spread between the library and war room. Garth and Jody were having a heart-to-heart about family on the edge of the library steps, while Claire monopolized the M&M bowl and Kevin caught up with Sam by the hallway, both of them glaring at Crowley from a safe distance. It was certainly a humble gathering, but one full of important people in Team Free Will’s lives. The setting was casual and intimate, and nothing could detract from the importance of the event at hand.

Still, the atmosphere was momentarily shattered by the sudden sound of beating wings, followed by Castiel’s abrupt appearance in the middle of it all. The angel looked awfully dolled up, his soft hair styled into a subtle swirl and face shaven to a trim stubble. He wore a suit similar to the one he always kept on under his trench coat, although this one had a slight blue tint offset by a shiny, brand-spanking-new cerulean tie.

Castiel looked around the room for several moments, cataloguing all its inhabitants (he frowned and growled slightly upon noticing Crowley, but swiftly redirected himself). The instant he spotted Sam off to the side, he strode towards him.

“Where’s Dean?” Castiel asked, his feathers ruffling nervously.

“Getting ready in his room, I think,” Sam replied, growing concerned by the angel’s demeanor. “Why? Is something wrong?”

“Ye—well, no, not really, it’s just…” Castiel huffed in frustration as he gathered his thoughts. “I only thought it fair to warn you and your brother that my father insisted on bringing—”

The entrance to the bunker unceremoniously swung open, revealing a short figure with a cocky stance. My heart leapt at the sight—no, it _couldn’t_ be—and he strode in to peer over the railing.

His gaze darted about the room, drinking in the confused and astonished looks of everyone in attendance. Eventually, his eyes landed on Sam, and he teased, “Miss me?”

With the theatricality of a drama student, Gabriel flung his massive, golden wings wide and descended the steps two at a time. Upon reaching the bottom, he immediately honed in on the M&M bowl.

“Don’t mind if I do,” he muttered gleefully to himself, swiping a handful of the colorful chocolates.

“Hey!” Claire protested, but was ignored. Pouting but keeping up her tough exterior, she asked Cas, “Who’s this douche?”

“Language,” Castiel scolded without missing a beat. “He’s my brother, the archangel Gabriel. Try to be nice to him, he’s been dead for a few years.” Castiel frowned as he watched Gabriel shove the entire handful of M&Ms into his gullet. “…Although I understand if you find that task difficult.”

Blinking dumbly, Sam interjected, “But…Gabriel’s dead.”

“He was,” Castiel grimly confirmed. “But my father said there should be at least one archangel available of the four, so he brought him back. Lucifer is out of the question, Michael has been reduced to practically nothing from his time in the cage, and Raphael proved to be a fanatic. Believe it or not…Gabriel was the best option.”

In the midst of trying to process all this, I realized that Castiel had a point. Of all the archangels, Gabriel was actually the least likely to cause a mess. When it came down to a traumatized, braindead archangel, a war-mongering archangel with a history of inciting civil war, and literally Satan, Gabriel really was the best pick of the bunch. Talk about slim pickings…

Gabriel chose that exact moment to stride over towards them, scooping another obscene pile of M&Ms from the bowl and ignoring Claire’s indignant complaints. He leaned in, resting his elbow against Castiel’s shoulder and donning the king of all shit-eating grins.

“You guys already gossipin’ about me?” Gabriel asked, waggling an eyebrow. “You really did miss me, huh?”

Neither Sam nor Castiel seemed to know how to respond to that. Eventually, Sam cleared his throat, grappling with his lingering shock over Gabriel being alive and present.

“Uh…G-Gabriel,” Sam awkwardly greeted. “You’re…” He forcibly cleared his throat. “You’re alive.”

“Eh, skip the awkward, obvious reunion shtick,” Gabriel waved a hand, talking through half a mouthful of M&MS. “Last time you saw me, I wasn’t exactly at my best. But I’m baaaack!” He shook a pair of overeager jazz hands, and I fought to contain my laughter.

Managing a semi-forced laugh, Sam said, “Yeah, uh…no hard feelings about you getting killed trying to protect us, right?”

Shrugging, Gabriel offhandedly answered, “Eh, forgive me for the Mystery Spot and we’ll call it even.”

Sam grimaced. “…Get back to me on that.”

The bunker’s metal steps began clanking again as someone new descended them. I’d been so dumbstruck by Gabriel’s return that I hadn’t even noticed anyone enter, but upon glancing towards the overhead platform, I saw it was just Chuck making his way down.

Ah yeah. Nothing like a gay, interspecies wedding attended by a werewolf, the King of Hell, an archangel, and literally God. Just another day in the Winchester household.

Chuck converged on Castiel the instant he reached the floor. Gabriel stepped aside to allow his dad room, sneaking and nibbling more of the adjacent M&M stash (Claire had given up trying to keep his grabby hands away from it by then).

“You look great!” Chuck beamed, fiddling with Castiel’s tie to ensure it was neat and tight. “Where’s your fiancé?”

“Getting ready, presumably,” Castiel intoned, fidgeting under his dad’s primping. “Father, I think my appearance is adequate.”

Relenting and backing away, Chuck defended, “Sorry, I’ve just been excited about this for a while now. For all the weddings humans have blessed and invoked in my name, I’ve never actually gotten to participate in one; for one of my own children, no less!”

“You could’ve always attended one of mine,” Gabriel grumbled through a glob of melted chocolate. “You would’ve liked Sigyn and Angrboda, they were pretty nice wives…”

“I was in hiding at the time,” Chuck replied without even looking back at the archangel. “Besides, you had taken on the role of Loki; God showing up to your wedding ceremonies would have been anything but inconspicuous.”

Gabriel considered this for a moment, shrugged, and moved on to the bowl of pork rinds.

“Ah!” Chuck straightened up, pulling away fully and facing the hallway. “There’s the groom!”

I pushed my rolling chair across the floor, and sure enough, Dean was on his way towards the festivities. He’d donned one of his old FBI suits and paired it with a striped green tie, but for all intents and purposes, the rest of him looked like good ol’ casual Dean. It suited him.

“There’s my soon-to-be son-in-law,” Chuck teased, stepping forward to catch Dean in a momentary hug before he could even emerge into the room. Dean stiffened and awkwardly returned the hug.

Realizing he may have acted rashly, Chuck stepped back and picked at the back of his neck. “Sorry, was that weird?”

“Nah,” Dean played it off, having recovered. “But…you know what is weird? It just occurred to me that I’m gonna be able to say that God is my father-in-law.” He chuckled. “Do I get special privileges for that, or…?”

Laughing along, Chuck joked, “I think getting to marry my son is enough for you.”

“Fair enough…where is he, by the way?”

Rather than answer, Chuck just stepped aside to allow Dean a full view of the room and its inhabitants. Dean brightened with each face he saw, but upon spotting Castiel, that brightness softened around the edges into a radiant, pulsating glow.

Castiel mirrored that fond glow. Each looked at the other for a few moments, disbelief hanging in the air between them as it set in that this was really about to happen.

Smirking and just barely holding himself back from rushing forward to greet his fiancé, Dean complimented, “Lookin’ good, angel.”

“You as well, human,” Castiel fondly replied. His dazed, lovestruck gaze drifted towards the library. “Shall we?”

I nearly got whiplash from the sudden transition, but I had to remind myself: this was an informal occasion, and one that both Dean and Castiel were very eager for, at that. Before I knew it, I was already on my feet, ready to congregate in the adjacent room at a moment’s notice.

Wordlessly nodding, Dean tore himself away from his angel’s gaze and headed towards the library. The guests followed, spreading their thin numbers out along the edges of the room. Castiel waited patiently at the foot of the stairs at his father’s behest; Chuck had insisted upon getting to walk his son down the aisle.

As for me, I planted myself near the far end of the library where I assumed the union would take place. Sam must’ve had no clue where he was supposed to stand either, because after I estimated an appropriate spot, he stood beside me. We both shared uncertain but eager smiles, and eventually Dean joined us, leaving space across from him for his groom.

“You ready for this, Dean?” Sam whispered as Claire and Gabriel took their positions across from us.

Though nervousness still pricked along the edges of his features, Dean’s excitement shone through like broad daylight. “Hell yeah, bring on the matrimony!”

Right on cue, Castiel and Chuck took the first few steps up into the library. Thinking fast, I fumbled my phone out of my pocket, pulled up YouTube, and played the first video of Mendelssohn’s Wedding March I found. Everyone’s eyes darted towards me for a moment, but it was worth it for the sputter of embarrassed laughter it elicited from Dean.

Slowly but surely, Castiel strolled down the makeshift aisle, back and wings held high and proud as Chuck guided him forwards. Though he kept an outward appearance of stoic professionalism, I could see the utter delight buzzing beneath his surface. His grace was probably bouncing around for joy inside his vessel.

Castiel reached the end of the room, slowly positioning himself across from Dean. All the attendees watched with rapt attention, standing neatly along the sidelines as they waited for the ceremony to get underway.

Chuck extricated himself from behind Castiel, shifting into position between the two grooms as he took on his post as officiator. The video streaming on my phone ended with impeccable timing, the strains of passionate pipe organ fading as everyone stood silently, anticipating. Dean and Cas in particular looked restless in the best sense, obscuring their eagerness save for the trembly grins they exchanged as they stared across at each other.

At last, Chuck cleared his throat. “Friends, family, humans, and non-humans, we are gathered here today to witness the union of two very, very special inhabitants of this world: The Righteous Man, and the Angel of Thursday. And let me just open this ceremony by saying, about damn time!”

Laughter bounced around the confines of the library. Chuck looked pretty proud of himself for that one.

“In all seriousness,” he continued once the last chuckles died down, “I feel obligated to admit that I’m not actually a licensed priest, but I am literally God, so if I don’t hold the authority to ordain a wedding without a license, who does? If anyone has any objections, now’s the time to speak up, though I’ll be surprised if there _are_ any…”

For a few moments, no one moved. Then, Crowley slowly extended his hand into the air.

Frowning slightly, Chuck called, “Crowley?”

“I don’t have an outright objection, per se,” Crowley announced. “More of a concern, really. If these two feathers-for-brains are going to be wed, is it to be assumed they will soul-bond as well?”

There was that word again. Castiel pinkened at the suggestion, but wiped a hand over his face in a bid to hide it. Dean, on the other hand, had no clue what to make of Crowley’s concern, squinting at the demon with equal parts confusion and irritation.

“Whether they soul-bond or not is up to them,” Chuck decisively answered. He smirked and looked between the grooms. “Although personally, I would highly recommend considering it, at the very least.”

“…Right,” Crowley grumbled. “Just wondering. My interactions with these three are challenging enough without two of them being soul-bound. Carry on.”

Unperturbed by the interruption, Chuck carried on with the proceedings. “Right, well. Most of you probably know the legend of Dean and Castiel’s love story. A chance meeting in Hell, of all places, led to a sort of intimacy neither of them had ever known. A few near-apocalypses and a lot of unresolved tension later, fate finally brought the two of them together in the way they were meant to be.”

_Actually, I did that,_ I silently objected, but I was too enthused by the wedding to be annoyed.

“Let me tell you something, folks: as the literal God of this world, I have scarcely seen a relationship quite as significant as Dean and Castiel’s. I’ve witnessed and facilitated the bonds of Adam and Eve, Mary and Joseph, but these two…I can confidently say that they rank among the most important pairs in this world’s history.”

The flattery in Chuck’s words was either ignored or went over the heads of the two in question. Both of them still gazed at each other across the aisle, befallen with a sort of softness and ease that I rarely saw in them. If their love was obvious in the subtleties of their casual, everyday interactions, this was a glaring spotlight that screamed their bond from the rooftops.

“When these two met, they were beings of soul and grace, respectively. One had fallen and was soon to be raised, and the other came from on high and was destined to fall. In a way, they met in the middle. That, along with so many other things, makes theirs easily one of the greatest love stories ever told.”

Someone in the crowd murmured a gentle “aww,” followed by a sniffle. I was hardly surprised to see it was Garth, whose face was split with a sentimental smile that could rival the sun at its brightest.

“And with that,” Chuck grasped his palms together, “we get to the vows. This is just a formality, but I feel like I should ask anyways: do you, Dean and Castiel, take each other to be husbands, lifemates, each the one true love to the other, to soothe and support each other in times of need, to have and to hold, and to honor, love and cherish until death do you part?”

Dean snorted. “As if a little obstacle like death would stop us.”

That got several warm chuckles from everyone in attendance, including me.

“But, yeah,” Dean finished. “I do.”

Castiel nodded, briefly closing his eyes. “As do I, I swear it.”

Getting a little giddy himself, Chuck resumed, “Alright then, those are the official vows. How about personal vows, one from each of you, huh?”

Beside me, Dean tensed. His nerves suddenly grabbed ahold of him, strangling him somewhat until he turned slightly pale. Poor guy didn’t prepare any vows ahead of time, did he?

_That’s what you get for not using structured planning!_ I smugly thought, but I did feel bad for him. Recalling advice I’d given him nearly a year prior, I projected with all my mental might, _Improvise, Dean! You can do it!_

“You…go ahead, Cas,” Dean offered.

Bowing slightly and clasping his hands together before him, Castiel did just that.

“Dean, I’ve expressed how I feel about you many times by this point, but…I still feel that words alone are insufficient. Out of all the things I have ever seen in all of existence, none is quite as beautiful and lovely to me as you. You’re a good man, and more than that, a wonderful partner, and I intend to cherish, guard, and support you to the best of my abilities. I love you dearly, and I don’t intend to ever stop.”

That earned several “awws” from among the crowd. Charlie giggled behind her palm, while Garth continued to sniffle loudly. Even Crowley appeared to soften somewhat, relaxing his posture and raising a curious eyebrow.

Once the cooing had died down, Dean once again began to sweat. He’d lost himself in Castiel’s words, so much so that he must’ve forgotten he was expected to offer words of his own in return.

_Improviiiisssssse,_ I hissed in my mind.

Loudly clearing his throat and gathering his confidence, Dean adlibbed his vows. “Well, I mean…you know I’m not really one for big speeches or theatrics, but…I guess I can make an exception this time.”

His gaze travelled upwards to meet Castiel’s, and he froze again. The angel watched him with such warmth that it must have lit a flame of inspiration in Dean, because he came up with the perfect words.

“You’ve been a part of my life for a long time, Cas, and I can’t imagine any of it without ya. Technically, you’ve always been considered a part of this family, but this makes it official, huh? Castiel Winchester has a nice ring to it,” he added with a blindingly charming grin.

Merely the words “Castiel Winchester” made the angel fidget with mirth. Rather than let his vessel move, he instead transferred the energy into his wings, absently swishing them back and forth and twitching their feathers. Most attendees couldn’t see, but me and Gabriel both did, watching the tic with amusement.

“Point is, you’re…” Dean flushed a bit. “Friggin’ awesome. I dunno where I’d be without you…probably Hell, I guess.”

A little chuckle hummed in Castiel’s throat, which encouraged Dean further.

“But it’s not just that. It’s… _all_ of you, from your dorky little mannerisms to how sweet yet badass you can be. And every day I’m amazed by the fact that an ancient dimensional being like you, who I shouldn’t even be able to perceive in the first place, could seriously feel the way you do about me.” Dean huffed. “I wish I had something that could even come close to matching your…celestial perspective, or whatever, but in comparison to my relatively puny human life, I can confidently say that I have never felt like this about anyone other'n you. I…”

He fizzled out for a few moments, growing self-conscious with everyone’s eyes on him. It took a few seconds to build up his courage, and when he glimpsed the faintest traces of joyful tears wetting Castiel’s eyes, he pressed on.

“I love you, Cas,” Dean softly proclaimed, giving each word the reverence it deserved.

Something akin to a squeal hummed in my mouth, and it took all my might to keep my lips clamped shut. Thankfully, everyone else was too busy “awwing” or “wowing” to hear that near-slip.

Even Chuck had to take a moment to collect himself, bringing a hand to his chest before he could continue the wedding. “Very touching, both of you. Now…how about those rings?”

Subtly wiping his eyes on his sleeve, Castiel reached into his suit jacket’s pocket and procured a familiar, circular piece of green glass. For a moment I was confused, but thinking back on the past few visits I’d made here, Dean hadn’t been wearing his ring…

“I requested that you let me take your sea glass ring back for a while,” Castiel explained. “I appreciate the trust you placed in me. I made a minor but meaningful alteration.”

As Castiel held the ring out between two fingers, I saw exactly what he was referring to. Set solidly into the ring’s surface, right in the groove of the broken bottle’s lid, was a triangular shard of pearly, brown shell. It was small, but a sharp recognition flickered to life in the back of my mind when I saw it.

Dean caught on a lot faster than I did. “Is…that a piece from one of those shells?”

Nodding and grinning proudly, Castiel twisted the ring around. “Yes. I gathered some of the shards before we left the Villa, and this piece best harmonized with the ring.”

That confirmation left Dean awed, unable to speak as Castiel took his hand and slipped the sea glass ring over his finger. He twisted it around his knuckle, calmed and overjoyed at its return and upgrade.

“Well…now my ring seems kinda silly,” Dean murmured, but fished around in his own jacket pocket as well. “Did a bit of research ‘til I found one that fit you.”

His hand slipped out of his pocket, delicately gripping something brilliant and sparkly. I audibly inhaled at the sight of it. This ring had one prominent, round gem in the middle that shimmered with facets of intermingling, neon blue and green. Smaller gems glittered white all around it, set into the front of the silver band that held it all together.

Mouth falling open slightly, Castiel’s eyes widened as he took in the jewelry. “Dean…it’s beautiful. Is this Paraíba Tourmaline?” He suddenly appeared alarmed. “Don’t these fetch thousands of dollars?”

Smirking and extending the ring towards him, Dean quipped, “You’d be surprised what phony credit cards can getcha.”

Still utterly enraptured, Castiel drank in every moment of Dean gently grasping his hand and sliding the ring into place. Before Dean could pull away, Castiel clasped his own fingers around his, and they stood sharing two hands between them.

Flabbergasted by the rings, Chuck continued, “Ah, now then…may these awesome, sentimental rings serve as an embodiment of your connection and commitment to each other, a daily, visual reminder to you and those around you that you are joined. And speaking of being joined…that’s about all I’ve got.”

Each groom’s eyes darted towards Chuck, silently prompting him to close the ceremony.

Formally holding his hands up, Chuck proclaimed, “By the power vested in me through…uh, me, I now officially pronounce you husband and husband!” A buzzing, unfinished tension still hung in the air, so Chuck added, “The grooms may now kiss.”

And that is exactly what the grooms did. Releasing their hands, they instead pulled each other into a long press of upturned lips. It was at this point that everyone began applauding wildly, creating more ruckus than a crowd such a humble size should. Garth hooted something, Jody cheered, and even Crowley politely golf-clapped and cracked a tiny half-grin.

The kiss drew on for several magical seconds, and near the end, a blue light bloomed between Dean and Castiel’s mouths. _A grace kiss,_ I recalled. _The perfect way to seal their union._

Slowly, Dean and Castiel ended their kiss, separating as hesitantly as possible to make the moment last as long as possible. Each of their eyes fluttered open, and upon taking in each other and confirming that yes, this had really just happened, they both began chuckling softly and joyfully.

Gabriel took in the sweet spectacle just as everyone else, though he began snickering to himself. With a single firm, teasing shove, Gabriel pushed Castiel even closer to Dean. Their noses collided, but neither of them seemed to mind; if anything, they appeared delighted to be closer to each other in any way.

Running with the flow of things, Gabriel nonchalantly crossed his arms behind his head and leaned back. “So…this is usually the part where all the wedding guests gorge themselves on cake, right?”

Barely looking away from Castiel—his new _husband_ —Dean replied, “Sorry to break it to ya, but there’s no cake at this wedding.” Dean’s faced twisted as he finally pulled back from Cas to look at Gabriel. “Hold on—what the hell— _Gabriel?_ You’re supposed to be dead!”

Raising an extremely amused eyebrow, Gabriel joked, “Just now noticed me, huh Dean-o? Wow, you have it worse for my little brother than I thought.”

Even the unexplained reappearance of a dead archangel couldn’t dampen Dean’s mood. He forced his attention away from Gabriel and back to his own angel. For the life of him, he couldn’t stop smiling, and as an observer, I found myself in much the same predicament.

The new husbands shared a few more soft pecks, basking in their commitment, before they finally restrained themselves. For a while longer they traded in loving pecks for loving stares, communicating on a silent level I could never hope to understand.

Finally, Castiel murmured, “There may be no cake, but I did prepare something along a similar line.”

Dean’s brow flattened, but his smile remained as strong as ever. “You really didn’t need to do that…”

“I think you’ll enjoy it.” Castiel sent a look over Dean’s shoulder towards Sam. Whatever he meant to convey, Sam must have gotten the message. The moose casually backed away and set out towards the war room, scurrying down the nearest hallway.

Although Sam had intended for his exit to be a swift, non-disruptive one, it was rather difficult for such a tall man to slip out of a room unnoticed. A few guests streamed closer to the war room, peering after him. Castiel pulled Dean by the hand, guiding him onwards.

I perched myself right at the edge of the stairs. Just thinking about the baked treats I’d seen earlier made my stomach rumble…I couldn’t wait to see what Dean thought.

Time dragged on for nearly a minute, but Sam did reappear in the hallway before long. He moved much slower this time, balancing a cumbersome stack of pie tins and bobbing and weaving to keep them upright. Dean’s pupils grew as large as an excited kitten’s when he saw what his brother was delivering, tracking them all the way up until Sam set them down on the war table.

Eyeing the stacked pies ravenously, Dean breathed, “Oh, Sammy…you didn’t.”

“I didn’t,” Sam agreed, cocking his head towards Castiel. “Cas did. I just taught him how to use the kitchen.”

Finally able to tear his eyes away from the masterpiece before him, Dean stared at Castiel with renewed awe. “Really? You made this?”

Blushing shyly, Castiel could only manage to nod.

“…Wow.” Dean returning to relishing every last detail of his wedding pie. “If I had any doubts about marrying you before, they definitely just got tossed out the window.”

As the tiered pies steamed and filled the room with their intoxicating, fruity scents, Sam made a return trip to the kitchen for plates and silverware. Dean could hardly stand the wait, and honestly, I was right there with him. Being presented with delectable baked goods yet being unable to eat them should be classified as torture.

Thankfully, Sam returned before too long, passing out utensils and some of the bunker’s old porcelain plates. He took it upon himself to serve the eager swarm of people gathered around the table, although he let Dean have first pick. Dean and Cas actually cut the first slice of pie themselves, as tradition dictated, but Dean piled his own plate high with one slice of each flavor.

It turned out that choosing just one flavor from the four available was difficult, so I followed Dean’s lead and took a (small) slice of each. And yeah…they all tasted freaking amazing. For an angel who evidently knew nothing about the workings of a kitchen, Castiel had outdone himself. 

I parked myself near the edge of the library, the perfect place to survey the crowd. Dean and Cas sat side-by-side at the head of the war table, quietly murmuring and giggling as they fed globs of pie to each other. Dean obviously loved the pie; he looked like he was literally in heaven with every bite Castiel spoon-fed him.

_Gah, look at ‘em,_ I told myself. _Husbands. Dorky, adorable, pie-sharing husbands. Wow._

A covert click sounded from just behind me, and I nearly dropped a goopy piece of blueberry pie when I heard it. I glanced behind me, and there stood Gabriel, positioning a flip phone and snapping photos of the grooms.

“Heh, these’ll ripen with age,” Gabriel muttered to himself. “Perfect embarrassing photos.”

Emboldened by my abounding good mood, I butt in, “Normally, I’d agree with that, but if anything, I think they’ll actually want those photos. For…a sentimental scrapbook album or something.”

Shrugging it off, Gabriel shut his phone and shoved it into his jeans pocket. “Eh, you may be right. Those two have turned into each other into pure saps.” He stuck his tongue out. “It’s almost too syrupy sweet, even for me!”

I chuckled in agreement, assuming the interaction would end there. To my surprise, Gabriel stepped forward and engaged me further.

“Say, you’re that lil’ world traveler, right?” he asked, quirking an eyebrow.

Put on the spot, I stuttered, “U-uh, yeah, that’s…that’s me.”

Gabriel’s mouth twitched into a smile. “Thought so. Pops mentioned you.” He leaned in and quietly added, “And I’ve also heard rumors that you’re a bit of a matchmaker, ah?”

Slowly nodding, I whispered back, “Yeah, you could say that…”

A scheming look dominated Gabriel’s features. “Huh…well how about that. Good to know.” Without further comment, he abruptly pulled back to rejoin the crowd, stabbing at his slice of cherry pie.

_Well that was…weird,_ I thought, contemplating as I gnawed a section of pie crust between my molars and resumed crowd watching.

Then, as soon as my gaze happened to land on Sam where he sat at the table, everything made a whole lot more sense.

As Sam was busy wiping some fruit jam off his bowtie, Gabriel eyed him up and down from across the room, twitching his eyebrows upwards when their eyes met. Sam replied with a confused eyebrow of his own and looked away, but a faintly flustered smile played on his features.

_Oh my god,_ I thought. _So help me, if I have to work to get another Winchester and angel pair together…_

Making an urgent note of that for later, I swept my gaze further across the crowd. Through their combined efforts, Dean and Cas had triumphed over their selection of pie, leaving smears of glaze on an otherwise empty plate. I snaked a couple fingers into my pocket—yes, the gift was still secure—and considered taking my chance.

I almost stopped myself when I got a closer look at them. With their pie devoured and their surroundings forgotten, the two of them were just…sitting there and looking at each other. Their faces were soft, their hands intertwined on the table between them, and for all intents and purposes they appeared absolutely lovestruck. They absently played with each other’s rings, spinning them around their fingers and marveling in how they felt.

It was a moment beyond tender, a sort of quiet, wonderful spectacle. With every second that had passed since this wedding began, the lovely-dovey aura surrounding them hadn’t abated in the slightest; if anything, it had just gotten progressively stronger.

Before I could decide whether to back out or not, my fingers closed around the tiny shape in my pocket. No, I had to do this. They’d forgive me for interrupting their moment when they saw what I’d gotten them.

Taking a breath, I set down my plate and strode towards the head of the table. Even when I was right next to Dean and Cas, neither of them acknowledged or noticed my presence. Looks like they had a case of newlywed fever already…

Clearing my throat, I bowed somewhat to show them respect for their intimacy, and finally Dean pulled his gaze away from his new husband.

Collecting himself, Dean asked, “Uh, hey kiddo. Whatcha need?”

“Nothing I…” I steeled myself. “I just…I know that you said no wedding gifts, but…”

That got Castiel’s attention. He too dragged his rapt focus from Dean, unabashedly beaming. “Did you get us something anyways? That’s awfully thoughtful of you.”

“Yeah, uh…here,” I mumbled, closing my fist around the item in my pocket and pulling it out. “After everything that happened with Raziel, and your nest…well, I happened to find this on the beach below the Villa before we left, and I thought you’d like it.”

Nervously, I opened up my fingers, revealing what lay in my palm. It was a shell, tiny but familiar. Deep, wooden brown pigment colored its bumpy surface, and vibrant greens stood up like stripes along its swirling shape. The interior and topmost portion of its spiral gleamed with pearly, white residue. It was clean, bright, and utterly unmarred.

Castiel recognized the significance immediately. “You…found another one.”

Still unsure of myself, I shrugged. “I know it’s a lot smaller than the other two, but I was so upset when both of them got broken. Especially after the meaning you ascribed to them…”

Gingerly, Castiel took the shell, handling it as though it was made of glass. He turned it over a few times, examining its luster, form, and intent. His pupils dilated, much the same as the first time he saw one of these periwinkle shells.

Releasing a breathy laugh, Castiel offered the shell to Dean. “I’ve figured it out: the reason these shells remind me so much of you. It’s not only because their color scheme matches yours. They…” He admired the shell one more time before setting it in Dean’s grasp. “They look like near exact replicas of your soul.”

Dazed, Dean took this in and examined the shell for himself. “Huh…so my soul looks like a seashell, huh?”

Frowning in confusion, Castiel shook his head. “No, the opposite. These seashells look like your soul. And to see something so breathtaking replicated in nature is astounding.”

Oop, that definitely got Dean. A blush rose to his face, and he looked away with a flustered laugh. “Hah, if you say so…” Regaining his bravado, he added, “Mr. Winchester.”

Castiel’s feathers ruffled at his new title. “I do say so, Mr. Winchester,” Castiel flirted, leaning closer.

_…Soooo have they have just forgotten I’m here, orrrr…?_

I cleared my throat; loudly. They jumped apart somewhat before anything could happen, and they both looked sheepish yet unapologetic at the same time.

“Th-thank you for the shell, [Y/N],” Castiel addressed me. “It means a lot to us.”

“You are most welcome!” I replied. “I have one other thing, if you’re interested…remember how I said I was gonna make a wedding playlist?”

Blinking a few times, Dean said, “Uh, yeah…you were serious about that?”

“Deathly. I brought my Bluetooth speaker.”

To prove it, I hopped up and sprinted into the library to retrieve my speaker. I didn’t realize until I turned around that everyone had noticed me rushing past them, and it felt like millions of eyes were on me.

Feeling a little wobbly all over, I weakly held up the speaker and suggested, “Dance party?”

After a few seconds of stunned silence, Gabriel piped up, “Hell yeah, I like the way you think!”

The archangel bounded towards the steps, shimmying his yellow wings as though to warm-up. Sam grabbed him by the collar as he passed, stopping him in his tracks with an overdramatic choking sound.

Swiftly recovering, Gabriel sneered up at his aggressor. “What, you wanna dance with me that badly?”

Face scrunching up, Sam denied, “Wha—no! I was just going to say that Dean and Cas should have the first dance.”

“…Ooooooh right,” Gabriel acqueised. “You heard him, lil’ bro! Hit the dancefloor!”

Startled, Castiel’s wings jerked back slightly. “U-um…I suppose we could, but I—”

“Get on out there!” Gabriel insisted, literally hoisting his brother out of his chair and pushing him into the library.

Alone and beyond confused, Dean stood up and followed the angels. Before he knew it, Gabriel teleported right behind him, shoving him towards Castiel.

The angel caught Dean, however ungracefully, and they held each other up in the middle of the aisle, their startled gazes inches apart.

“Cue the music!” Gabriel commanded before anyone could intervene, and with a snap of his fingers, my speaker came alive all on its own. I nearly dropped it as the first piano chords of my chosen song blared to life, but I just barely kept ahold of it as it thrummed in my hands.

His work done, Gabriel leaned against a nearby pillar, smug and proud of himself. Dean and Cas only glanced our way for a moment, and though still fringed by uncertainty, each seemed to calm at the other’s presence.

_Oh angel sent from up above…_

_You know you make my world light up._

Coldplay’s solid, uplifted voice streamed from my speaker. I held it high above my head and upped the volume somewhat. If this was happening, I may as well encourage it.

Though unnerved by all the pairs of eyes watching him, Dean forced himself to focus wholly on the angel he was clinging to. Donning a soft, sultry smile, he quietly asked, “You ever danced before, angel?”

“No, I…” Castiel’s nervousness returned, his wings twitching. “I have virtually no experience.”

Nodding reassuringly, Dean promised, “Alright then, I’ll show you.”

Adopting a firmer posture, Dean stepped back and placed his hand around Castiel’s wasist, guiding one of the angel’s hands over his shoulder and interlacing the other with his own. Castiel drew him close, seeking comfort, and Dean seamlessly began rocking between his feet, guiding the two of them into a gentle swaying motion.

_Life is a drink, and love’s a drug_

_Oh, now I think I must be miles up_

Their footwork started out clumsy, but as Castiel adjusted, their movements became more synchronized. Squinting downwards, Castiel focused on his and Dean’s feet, obsessing over the patterns of steps, Dean all the while watching him with amusement.

Their dancing became less hesitant, and Castiel bolstered the confidence to move without watching his shoes like a hawk. Dean smiled as their eyes met, and Castiel mirrored it, his face pink in the low lighting of the bunker.

They got a real rhythm going before long, swaying back and forth and occasionally side-to-side. Their inhibitions were dropping fast, their smiles widening and bodies moving closer the longer they looked at each other.

_Put your wings on me, wings on me_

_When I was so heavy_

That line visibly startled them both, draping a fresh blanket of timidity over them. Dean in particular was forced to look away, laughing awkwardly. Castiel glanced back at his wings and made up his mind. Black feathers filled with grace and swung around to encircle Dean from behind, pulling him flush against Cas.

Though he blushed something awful, Dean uttered a tiny, pleased laugh that grew in intensity until both of them were chuckling, resting their foreheads together and closing their eyes as they basked in the glow of their first dance as husbands.

_I, oh I, oh I_

_Got me feelin’ drunk and high, so high, so high_

Neither of the pair was literally drunk or high, or course; not on any drugs, at least. Unless you counted an endless well of romantic love and affection as a drug, that is.

Feeling bold, Dean tried introducing a new aspect to the routine. Releasing Castiel’s waist, he pulled back until their arms were extended like a bridge between them. Understandably, this initially alarmed Castiel, but the angel got the hang of it and was content so long as his wings could reach Dean.

Each time they repeated this, they would reattach themselves together without fail. As they learned the individual maneuvering of slow dancing, so too did they learn and flow with each other’s movements until they were perfectly in sync.

Now that he’d grown considerably more comfortable with the art of dance, Castiel decided to experiment a bit for himself. On one of his steps forwards, he leaned considerably farther, looming over Dean until the hunter fell back into the cradle of the massive wings behind him. Castiel dared not release Dean from the grasp of his hands, but for the most part, it was just his impressive wings supporting and dipping him.

_A wing dip,_ I named it. _They’ve just started dancing together and have already coined a new dance move._

“H-how…?” a hushed voice muttered near the foot of the stairs. It was none other than Sam, perplexedly watching the newlyweds.

“Wings, moose,” Crowley muttered back, vaguely annoyed. “The limitations of human perspective never cease to amaze…”

I watched as Castiel pulled Dean back up, holding him snugly against his vessel with the combined force of his arms and feathers. It was tricky, but I tried to imagine what the move would have looked like sans wings, and yeah, if you couldn’t perceive celestial appendages that would have looked like a major gravity-defying feat.

The song continued on for a couple minutes, but it felt like so much longer. When Dean and Cas weren’t staring soulfully into each other’s eyes, they were practicing more dips and minor twirls. They met with a kiss a few times after returning to the default position, and before long this became commonplace.

Was there a crowd of friends and family watching them, admiring their intimacy? They sure didn’t seem to think so, or at least they didn’t care. All they could truly concern themselves with in that moment was each other.

Near the song’s end, Castiel sighed blissfully and rested his head on the junction of Dean’s chest and neck. In turn, Dean leaned his head to cover Castiel’s shoulder, creating a seamless lock. The feathers around Dean’s back squeezed and caressed him, showering him with all the love his angel had to offer.

_That we shoot across the sky…_

_That we shoot across the…_

The song ended with an echoed, serene voice, and slowly, like twirling statues in a music box, Dean and Castiel came to a standstill. They didn’t release each other, not even glancing away when their audience began applauding.

My playlist continued unbidden, projecting the upbeat strains of Uncle Kracker’s “Smile.” Satisfied that the grooms had gotten their private dance, Gabriel all but leaped up into the aisle, performing some strange hybrid of polka and swing dancing. That was enough to encourage others to join the impromptu flash mob, congregating into a slightly cramped but lively dancefloor.

What resulted was a mish-mash of individuals having fun. Sam even threw up his arms and did some awkward little moose shimmies after a while. Charlie was absolutely _killing_ it, and Garth was performing possibly the dorkiest rendition of some kinda eighties beach dance. Jody was doing what could only be described as mom dancing, and Claire, rather than letting it embarrass her, opted to one-up her guardian with some fast-paced dance I couldn’t place the name of. Kevin and Chuck were clumsy dancers, but they owned it, and everyone else was too preoccupied to notice anyways.

That left just me and Crowley on the sidelines. Crowley obviously wasn’t going to outright dance, but I did see how he entertained himself by tapping his foot and bobbing his head somewhat. I contented myself with setting the speaker on one of the library tables and perching beside it, swinging my legs back in forth in tune with the beat.

There were more songs than that, and plenty more dancing, but I was happy just to watch at my own pace. At some point Gabriel upgraded to some kind of breakdancing and nearly knocked some books off a shelf. Sam had to intervene in that one, but got roped into dancing nearby Gabriel and all his shenanigans. Yeah, I definitely needed to keep a note of those two for later…

But for now, I could relish in the union of another angel and hunter couple. No matter the chaos around Dean and Castiel, they didn’t let it bother or distract them. Their bond was unbreakable, forged in the literal fires of Hell and imprinted on their beings forever. It took more than a lot of work to get to this point, both on my part and theirs, but I couldn’t be happier with the end results.

Smiling as I watched the fruits of my winggirl labor blossoming into their full potential, I hummed a carefree tune and felt at peace. There may have been lingering troubles to address back home, but in this world, all was right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ha ha haaaa sorry if this was a bit rushed I had to get it out before leaving for my next vacation ;w;
> 
> (Which, spoiler alert, will most likely provide inspiration for a third work in this series. What's self-control?? I'm not familiar with that concept.)
> 
> There's still one more sort of epilogue-y thing to add to this and it'll be done! Thanks for sticking with me through this messterpiece of a story!!
> 
> The first song used in this was Hymn for the Weekend by Coldplay. It always reminded me so much of these two. OwO
> 
> Also, if you wanna hear the full wedding playlist, you can right here (regrettably it's not super long, I may add to it over time for fun): https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLD3BzdP1ftwIGcueHnezZaDR7PCjWWEfp
> 
> Photo of wedding pie: https://www-static.weddingbee.com/pics/320281/enhanced-buzz-22410-1360176370-4.jpg
> 
> Photo of Paraíba Tourmaline ring: https://michaelscreative.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/09/091117-12-500x500.jpg


	11. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm currently posting this from my hotel room in Rome, Italy! Thank god they have wi-fi here -.-"
> 
> Aaaaaaanyways, I've already started work on the third work in this series. Rome is providing a LOT of inspiration, so I'm out of control as usual. Stay tuned for the next ridiculously lengthy installment in the Rubbish Collection, which will probably not come out for another year!

Having an angel husband was a pretty sweet gig, all things considered. You had open access to the soothing/intoxicating effects of grace, two uber soft wings that served as the best blankets in the world, the ability to teleport pretty much wherever whenever, and a wealth of celestial wisdom and insight that never seemed to end. Plus, angels were fiercely protective, sweet partners who wholly devoted themselves to their charge.

…Alright, so Dean could only really apply all of these traits to his own angel, but could anyone blame him? In the brief time since he and Castiel had been wed, their bond had only grown stronger. They were inseparable, spending every waking moment they could in each other’s presence. For a while, Sam accepted being the third wheel of the group, but as the newlyweds adjusted to their new status, group dynamics returned to normal for the most part.

Except for the fact that Sam would far more frequently find them in increasingly compromising positions. But hey, it was his fault for not bothering to knock or walking too quietly.

There’d been talk of a honeymoon, and technically, they had one. Since they weren’t held back by the pesky limitations of travel expenses and jetlag, Castiel teleported them to various locations across the globe, wherever they wanted to see. Cas took Dean to Paris, then to Mozambique, then the Taj Mahal, and so on and so on.

Of course they’d had their share of fun in all these locations, and of course they’d grown all the closer for it.

So…why did Dean feel like something vital was missing?

Don’t get him wrong, he adored Castiel and practically every nuance of their relationship. It just felt like there was something more to be had, an odd yearning in his soul. It was an emotional, nebulous something, and Dean hated that he couldn’t put so much as a name to it.

Sure, he’d done some research, picked up a few of the bunker’s books about angels and scoured them for whatever he was missing, but his efforts didn’t offer much in the way of results. And stranger still…Castiel didn’t seem to feel the yearning, or at least he didn’t show signs of it.

Which meant this must be something on his own end, Dean decided. Rather than narrowing down his efforts, that only complexified the issue further.

One particular evening, Dean was revisiting a tome of angel physiology in the library. His eyes were drooping and his brain was barely taking in any of the words in front of him. He was about to call it a night and head to bed—his and _Cas’s_ bed, a thought that still made him giddy—but his freakishly large brother came traipsing up the stairs before he could muster the energy to shut the book.

Raising a sleepy eyebrow in his brother’s direction, Sam asked, “Burning the midnight oil?”

“Barely,” Dean grunted, hefting the book shut with a thunk.

Yawning into the back of his hand, Sam approached Dean’s table. He caught a glimpse of the book on its polished surface and muttered a succinct, “Huh…”

Suddenly feeling defensive, Dean challenged, “What?”

“Nothin’,” Sam defused. “You researching angels?” A thought occurred to him and he faintly smirked. “Looking for ways to treat your hubby right?”

“Shut up, I don’t need a damn book to tell me how to do that.”

Chuckling tiredly, Sam smiled to show he didn’t mean it. Dean only forgave his brother because of how common an occurrence this was. Sam took every single opportunity he could to tease Dean about his married life and all the “domestic bliss” that came with it.

Whatever. It wasn’t like getting married had made him soft or anything, he was still a fierce hunter down to the core.

Plopping himself across from Dean, Sam couldn’t help his curiosity. “Then what’re you researching angels for?”

_Dammit, think of an answer that won’t sound suspicious,_ Dean ordered himself. It wasn’t like he could explain this…yearning or whatever to his brother when he could scarcely understand it on his own!

“Just…curious,” Dean mumbled. “Looking up some…wing stuff.”

The teasing look returned to Sam’s face. “So you are researching stuff about Cas. Innnteresting.”

God—er, Chuck dammit. So help him, the very instant Sam finally crawled out of his nerd shell and landed a nice girl, Dean was gonna retaliate full-force.

Frustration and mounting exhaustion boiling, Dean threw his hands up. “I dunno. I’m just tryin’ to figure some stuff out.”

Sighing, Sam relented, “Alright, fair enough. I’m not really in any place to talk, anyways. I’ve been looking at angel lore lately too, actually.”

Seeing a chance to get back at his brother, Dean teased, “Oh what, so now you’ve got an angel partner in crime too, ah? What’s her name? Is it Viviel? Nah, she was a spicy one, she’d eat you alive…”

Donning a tired version of his iconic bitchface, Sam honestly replied, “No, I’m trying to find a way to get Gabriel to stop—”

“ _Gabriel_?” Dean impulsively hissed. He still wasn’t used to the fact that the world’s most obnoxious archangel was alive and kicking. Why no one had decided to mention that particular tidbit to him earlier so he didn’t make a fool of himself at the altar, Dean would never know.

Frowning, Sam pulled his phone out from his shirt pocket. “Yeah, he’s been texting me like crazy for the past week. It’s driving me nuts.”

“How’d he even get your number?”

“My dear brother-in-law gave it to him,” Sam deadpanned. “He tried to ask me for my phone number before he left the wedding, but when that didn’t work, all he had to do was ask Cas. And now…if it weren’t for the fact that we scam our way out of paying phone bills, we’d be out a lot of money right now.”

“Damn,” Dean muttered, curiosity piqued. “What’s he sending you? Something douchey?”

“Actually…” Sam swiped his phone screen and squinted at it. “It’s mostly just strings of emoticons, bad puns he probably found on the internet, and pictures of corgis.” A reflexive, real smile snuck onto his face as he scrolled through the texts. “Aww, okay, that one is pretty cute.”

“Nuh-uh,” Dean denied. “Don’t get any ideas; you already have one dog living here, and that’s enough. No more.”

“Wattson’s not that hard to live with,” Sam absently countered.

“Yeah, well you don’t have to try fitting him into a bed with two people when he insists on spending the night.” Grumbling, he added under his breath, “Cas stays up all night with that dog when he visits, keeps me awake…”

“Aww, someone’s jealous,” Sam teased. “Watch out, Wattson might steal your husband.”

“He’s a goddamn dog, Sam,” Dean ground out. “’Sides, Cas would never leave me, he told me so himself.”

“I dunno Dean, Wattson’s pretty adorable and charming. Cas was smitten with him from the first—”

A text tone rang from Sam’s phone, startling both brothers. Sam opened his messages and rolled his eyes.

“Gabriel again?” Dean guessed.

“Yeah,” Sam grumpily confirmed. “It’s not that bad, really. I wouldn’t actually mind the occasional text from the guy, he seems to have calmed down a bit since we last saw him.”

“What’d he send you this time?” Dean leaned over the table, craning his neck to see Sam’s phone screen. “If it’s an adoption form for a corgi, I will literally kick his ass.”

“No, no corgis,” Sam said, and for Christ’s sake he actually sounded disappointed about that. “Just asking about you and Cas.”

Hold up, what?

“What’d he say?” Dean demanded, inexplicably invested. What could that tricky asshat want to know about him and Cas?

“Not much,” Sam casually replied. “Just wants to make sure you’re ‘treating lil’ Cassie right.’ Oh, and he’s kept nagging me about that soul-bonding thing, keeps asking when you two are gonna do that, but—”

Hold up, _double what_?

“S-soul-bonding?” Dean repeated shakily.

Finally tearing his eyes away from his phone, Sam slowly nodded. “Uh, yeah…that thing Chuck kept talking about. Gabriel’s acting lowkey obsessed with it, but I keep telling him it’s not gonna happen.”

Trying to lasso his thoughts together, Dean managed, “Not…gonna…what?”

Eyeing his brother with concern, Sam intoned, “Soul-bonding. You know?”

“No, I…I don’t! What the hell is that, anyways?”

Eyebrows lifting and mouth falling slightly open, Sam realized, “Oh, you never actually found out about that? I assumed…Cas would’ve told you.”

Fighting a brewing storm of confusion and emotions twisting around in his ribcage, Dean denied, “No, he hasn’t told me a thing about it! I have no idea what it means.” Suddenly frantic for a reason he couldn’t place, Dean demanded, “What is it? Was I supposed to know?”

Holding out a placating hand, Sam soothed, “Whoa, calm down Dean. It’s fine, I just…thought you and Cas would’ve talked about it, and since it hasn’t happened yet, I figured it never would.”

“What exactly is ‘it?’” Dean insisted, deadset on getting to the bottom of this. “I keep hearing that word, soul-bond, but I have no clue what it means!”

Growing hesitant, Sam ventured, “You…want me to tell you about it?”

Scoffing sarcastically, Dean rolled his eyes. “I wasn’t aware you were the expert, but yeah, tell me everything you know.”

“I’m not an expert, I just…” Sam sheepishly fiddled with his phone case. “Did some research after the wedding ‘cause I was curious.”

Sighing and calming his nerves, Dean joked, “Of course you did, you grade-A nerd.”

For a few moments, neither of them moved. The bunker’s circulation system hummed in the background, and that pent-up restlessness began stirring anew in Dean’s chest. He wasn’t sure how, but he knew in his gut that this and that infuriating yearning were connected.

When Sam said nothing, Dean prompted, “Well? Gimme me the lowdown, Soul-Bond 101.”

Though uncertain, Sam acqueised, “Alright, if you’re sure. It’s pretty heavy-duty stuff, I thought for sure Cas would’ve brought it up with you by now…”

“Well, he hasn’t, so…” Growing impatient, Dean gestured vaguely to his brother. “Get to it, Teach.”

Shifting uncomfortably in his chair, Sam stowed his phone and began. “For starters, uh…a soul-bond is basically exactly what it sounds like: a bond between two souls. It’s a way for two people to grow closer by literally connecting part of their essence to unite their hearts and minds. It’s pretty rare, but in my research, I found that it was most common between angels and humans; historically speaking, anyways.”

Considering this wealth of info, Dean asked, “So…like soulmates, basically?”

“Kinda, but not really. Soulmates are people who are born with a certain natural connection between them that share no inherent magic. Soul-bound people connect themselves by their own choice and high-level magic, which also produces a bunch of…side effects.”

That was a bit concerning. “What sort of side effects?”

“Most of them happen because each person has a piece of the other’s soul literally inside them. So in short, it causes you to be constantly aware of the other person, how they’re feeling, where they are, what they’re thinking or remembering, and sharing power or stamina between yourselves.”

“…Dude,” Dean said. “Those aren’t side effects. Those are bonuses! Like…like a Vulcan mind meld!”

The slightest grimace scrunched Sam’s features. “Yeah, but…all the stuff I read was chock full of warnings about both positives and negatives. Sure, you can share energy and good feelings, but you’ll also feel the bad stuff, too, unless you learn to temper the connection. And on top of that, there’s no going back; this is crazy powerful magic. Once you make a soul-bond, breaking it is pretty much impossible.”

“Right, but you can control the connection, right?”

“I think so, if you practice it enough.” Surprise sharply drew Sam’s gaze upwards. “Why, do you…actually wanna try it?”

Though he hesitated, Dean admitted, “Uh…maybe. Just feels right,” he mumbled crossing his arms.

Blinking slowly, Sam processed this. “Alright, if you’re serious…then you should also know: if two people who soul-bond have different lifespans, then one will extend to match the other. Basically, if you bonded with Cas, you’d be pseudo-immortal.”

Oh. Well, that complicated matters.

“Not sure I’d wanna be immortal,” Dean muttered, picking at the table’s glossy wood. “Wouldn’t be right to leave you in the dust like that.”

Sam’s eyebrows shot up. “Hold on, just because of me?” He violently shook his head. “C’mon, if you really wanted to soul-bond, you shouldn’t stop on my account.”

Staring defiantly across the table, Dean countered, “Nice try, Sammy, but you’re my number one priority.”

Sam’s mouth flattened into a thin, unamused line. “I’m serious. If this was really something you wanted to do, you should, as long as you think it through. I’d be fine with it, really. I’m just happy to see you and Cas happy.” He triumphantly smirked as another reason occurred to him. “Plus, it’d make it easier to look after yourself, me, and Cas. Far as I can see, it’s a win-win if you decide to go for it.”

…He had a point.

“Well, I mean…if you’re _sure_ ,” Dean relented, slumping back in his chair. “I still haven’t figured out if I actually wanna go through with it or not. Speaking of which, uh…how exactly would one go about soul-bonding? Just so I know.”

Discomfort prickled along Sam’s shoulders. “It’s, uh…literally a melding of essence. Like, you’re giving the other person a physical part of your soul—or grace, in Cas’s case. Normally for humans, it takes a lot of discipline, training, and high-level spells, but since Cas is an angel, he can already interact with souls and channel his grace naturally.”

Puzzled, Dean’s eyebrow raised. “So, what, I just…somehow tear off part of my soul and say ‘hey, go nuts?’”

“That’s…not it at all.” Sam momentarily ruffled his hair. “I think Cas is supposed to just…reach for it? And as long as both parties fully trust each other and respond, the souls kinda…knit themselves together and…um, bond.”

Dean blinked. “Just like that?”

“Yeah, it sounds deceptively simple. Every source I found said it feels good, too. Like…really good.”

For a few moments, Dean stared blankly across the table. Then with an incredulous burst, demanded, “Wait, is this—is this some kinda soul sex thing, or—”

“I don’t know!” Sam threw his hands up. “None of the sources confirmed or denied that.”

Sighing as his sleepiness resurged, Dean grumbled, “Well, this got a hell of a lot more awkward. I think I get the gist of it, I’ll just ask Cas about the rest.”

“That…would probably be best,” Sam agreed. “He’d be the actual expert…”

Without waiting for the topic to get even more uncomfortable, Dean scooted his chair across the floor and rose to his feet, his head spinning with dizziness. Sam’s phone vibrated in his pocket, and huffing to himself, he retrieved it.

Just as Dean was stumbling towards the hallway, he overheard Sam suppress a chuckle, half-smiling at the illuminating light of his phone screen.

“Hey Sam?”

Sam glanced up from the phone in his lap.

“You can always block Gabriel’s number, you know. No fancy angel warding spell required.”

Oddly, Sam seemed troubled by that suggestion, but he shook himself and drew his gaze back to his text messages. “Yeah, uh…I’ll think about it. I’m gonna wait until he sends me more corgis, though, I don’t really mind those.”

Sighing, Dean backed out of the room, a mild headache threatening his skull from the inside. Of all the people for Sam to get so buddy-buddy with, it had to be Gabriel. The last thing he needed was a chaotic, mischievous entity like him popping into the bunker for a playdate. Chuck knows what sort of havoc he’d wreak…

Actually, Chuck probably did know, better than anyone else. Huh, go figure.

**~~~**

Castiel was sitting up in bed when Dean found him, flipping through an album of pressed leaves. The angel greeted him with a silent but warm smile, the plastic pages crinkling under his fingers.

“You’ve stayed up awfully late,” Castiel observed. “I was just about to come looking for you.”

“I only need four hours,” Dean replied, falling back on the bed and jiggling the mattress.

“You and I both know that’s not true; it’s only a fabrication that’s come about as a result of your hunting life. The human body needs considerably more than four hours to function healthily.”

Staring down Castiel, Dean chuckled. “Smartass.”

Chuckling along, Cas scooted across the bed and tilted Dean’s chin up. Dean smirked in response; he’d come to know all of Castiel’s cues and mannerisms, and his lips were already puckered in preparation for this one. Humming fondly, Castiel mirrored him and brought their lips together for a string of soft smooches.

Castiel’s kisses were always so sweet and mushy and made Dean want to melt into a puddle on the floor whenever he received them. How was it possible for someone to convey so much love through just simple kissing? Every single press or movement made Dean feel so deeply, deeply loved, and for a while, truly worthy. Dean tried his hardest to return all that, and although his smooching style was quite different from his angel’s, they happily met in the middle.

Pulling away to breathe, Dean murmured, “Mmm. Best husband ever. Did I score big or what?”

“We did win big,” Castiel quietly agreed. “You’re my prize as much as I am yours.”

As though to prove his point, Castiel gingerly took ahold of Dean’s hand, his fingers loosely playing with the large, green ring on his finger. He brought it up to his mouth, pressing a few light kisses to the skin around the glass hoop.

“You’ve always meant the world to me, Dean.”

Dean could feel the red in his cheeks, huffing and averting his gaze to the side. “Man, warn me when you’re about to say sappy stuff like that.”

Castiel just smiled. “You may find that a bit tedious. I’m particularly inclined to say many sappy things when I’m around you.”

“Goddammit,” Dean laughed, reddening further. “There you go again. At this rate, I might have to get a restraining order.”

“I don’t think would suit either of us very well.”

“Yeah…” Dean trailed off. “You dork.”

“Have you no other nicknames for me?” Castiel inquired, absently tilting his head and resuming flipping through the pages of flat leaves.

Snorting, Dean joked, “What, now that we’re married, we have to have disgustingly cute pet names for each other?”

When Castiel didn’t laugh or jest back, Dean turned to look at him. The angel had drawn his attention away from his book, instead watching Dean pensively.

“…I was kidding,” Dean murmured. “But if you have anything to share with the class…”

Squinting and thinking deeply, Cas eventually decided, “Apple pie. Moon of my eye. Honey-bunches. Earth’s greatest wonder. Um…” He paused, squinting harder. “Deanie…Weenie.”

That last one made Dean burst out laughing. “How many have you got?”

A rare competitive smirk broke out on Cas’s face. “Is that a challenge?”

“…I didn’t mean it as one, but I get the feeling I don’t have much of a say in the matter now.”

“Hmm…” Castiel hummed, staring into empty space. “How about…Snuggleberry Finn?”

“Wha—how do you even know that book?”

“I have done _some_ reading since I’ve been on earth, Dean,” Cas deadpanned.

“…You really are a dork,” Dean said, feeling rather dorky himself as a grin beyond his control wormed onto his face.

Unable to help himself, Dean snuggled up to Castiel’s side, nuzzling along his neck. Blue light flashed in his periphery, and before long he felt the encompassing, familiar embrace of silky feathers around his back. Humming serenely, Dean planted several ticklish little pecks along his husband’s neck, working his way up to nibble ever-so-softly at his earlobe. He’d added that particular spot to his ever-growing list of Castiel’s weak points, exploiting it often just to make the angel squirm a little.

Lost in the sentimental sensations, Dean’s mouth opened and spoke without him meaning to.

“We should soul-bond.”

Castiel stiffened, his feathers standing on end. Slowly, wordlessly, he pulled away and fixed Dean with an alarmed expression.

“Y-you,” he stuttered. “Why would you want that? You don’t even know what it is.”

“Sam told me,” Dean explained, suspicion weighing his features. “Why wouldn’t I want it?”

Slowly folding the album in his lap closed, Castiel stared down into the sheets, uncomprehending. “If you knew what it was, I doubt you would be willing to engage in it.”

Unease bubbled beneath Dean’s thoughts. No, that yearning was definitely tied to this, he knew that he wanted it.

“It’s joining two souls together,” Dean proved his knowledge. “Like a mind meld, except way more permanent.” He held up a finger before Cas could interject. “And before you ask, yes, I know about the extended lifespan, Sam explained that too.”

Although Castiel’s face softened, he still held himself tensely, eyeing Dean suspiciously. “I…don’t understand. If you know what it is, then why are you offering to initiate it?”

The yearning bobbled around in Dean’s chest, and he blurted, “I think a better question is why you never bothered to explain it to me!”

In the heavy silence that followed, Castiel shrank inwards. “I…didn’t think you would want to, and I didn’t want you to feel pressured, so…”

Huffing in disbelief, Dean crossed his arms and thunked into the headboard. “So you just…didn’t mention it at all. Whatever happened to communication?”

Though it was slight, Dean felt a flinch run through the wings encircling him. He regretted his tone, but it wasn’t like he could take it back now. He was just…riled up.

Sighing his own regret, Castiel quietly replied, “You must understand…a soul-bond is not to be taken lightly. It’s just about the most emotionally intimate experience one can have, and you can’t reverse it afterwards. I thought…although you have gotten considerably better at dealing with your ‘emotional constipation,’ this would be a step too far too fast. I intended to tell you, truly, but not until I felt you were ready.”

“…That’s it?” Dean prompted. “You thought it was too emotional for me to handle?”

Somehow, Castiel hunkered down even further, as though Dean was accusing him of something. Dean hadn’t meant to, really; he just wanted this miscommunication to get sorted out.

Forcing his tired body to sit up and face Cas, Dean placated, “I’m not mad, okay? I mean, I get where you’re coming from. Soul-bonding seems like a big deal. But after working up the nerve to say all those wedding vows in front of that many people, I don’t think any private emotional commitment can faze me anymore.” He cracked a sincere smile. “Ya know, I improvised like, most all of those vows, by the way.”

Brightness lifted Castiel’s wings and posture back up. “…Really? So you procured all those touching words in the moment, then?”

Undeniably proud, Dean held himself higher. “Sure did. How’s _that_ for emotional constipation?”

“…Perhaps I was mistaken,” Castiel admitted quietly. “But all the same, our commitment to each other aside, a soul-bond isn’t meant to be rushed into. It takes time to discuss; it alters a person’s life forever.”

Dean waved his hand, flashing a confident smile. “Then we can work out the details. Point is…I’m willing to give it a shot if you are.”

Hope flickered in Castiel’s eyes; or at least that’s what Dean assumed it was. It may have been a thrilled tendril of grace dancing behind his already blue, blue irises. And Dean couldn’t help but fixate on that because maybe, just maybe that was a sign that Castiel felt the yearning too.

“If you really are considering a soul-bond,” Castiel said, traces of awe lining his voice. “Then I am beyond willing to attempt one with you.”

Scooching back into Castiel’s personal space, Dean ventured, “Huh…have you by chance felt this, like…weird yearning? Like something really important is missing even with everything else we’ve been through?”

Surprised, Castiel replied, “Yes, I…I have. That is a recognized symptom of being near to someone suitable for a soul-bond.”

Snapping his fingers, Dean hissed, “Friggin’ knew it. This whole damn time…”

“In hindsight, I really should have said something,” Castiel admonished himself. “I’ve wanted this very, very badly. As of late, the desire has grown nearly unbearable.”

Pouting piteously, Dean wrapped his arms around Cas and pulled him nearer, lying parallel to his side. “Poor angel. We’ll get to fixin’ that as soon as possible, huh?”

“Well…time is a necessity when it comes to soul-bonds. It’s vital that we both understand what we’re getting into.”

“Mmph,” Dean groaned, shoving his face into a pillow. “Fine. But sleep now, talk later.”

Humming affectionate chuckles, Castiel set his book aside and slithered down towards Dean’s level. “Yes, you need rest. Soon you won’t even be able to get those ‘four hours’ you tout.”

Dean did end up getting more than four hours of sleep after all, largely due to the wing gently massaging him and his husband’s hand scritching through his hair.

**~~~**

Cas wasn’t kidding when said there was a lot of talking involved.

Every night for nearly two weeks, he and Dean would set aside some time in their nightly routine to lay the groundwork of their potential soul-bond. Castiel informed Dean with as many details as he could think of, and Dean attentively asked whatever came to mind. Yet even still, after all this education, Dean felt that he only grasped the very basics of soul-bonding.

The only way to really know a soul-bond was to experience it for yourself; that’s how Cas had put it, anyway. And although Dean was comforted by the knowledge that Cas felt the yearning after all, that didn’t make it any easier to combat the restlessness that danced in his core at many hours of the day. If anything, just knowing a resolution was in sight but not yet attainable made it worse.

Until, that is, Castiel sought Dean out one uneventful afternoon in the bunker. Dean had doing a bit of research about soul-bonding on his own end, trying to make sense of the complexities behind the method and how to control a bond once it formed, but he only succeeded in creating an outline of understanding. The interior details and color could only be fleshed out by trying it firsthand.

That just so happened to be when Cas found him, off in an unused room hunched over an old text in a raggedy armchair. Dean slumped the pages shut and sighed, fully prepared for another heart-to-heart soul-bond discussion.

Instead, Castiel opened with, “I think we’re ready.”

Glancing back and forth around the room, Dean guessed, “For…dinner? It’s burger night, right?”

Shaking his head, Castiel corrected, “No. I meant we’re ready to soul-bond.”

Dean was especially thankful he hadn’t taken a glass of whiskey to keep him company during his research session, otherwise he would have spat its contents all over the floor and earned himself a major chewing out from Sam.

“Wh-what, like, right now?” Dean checked, incredulous.

Solemnly nodding, Castiel stepped closer. “I feel that I’ve given you the best understanding that I can. Unless you have any—and I mean _any_ —lingering concerns or uncertainties, there’s nothing more to cover.”

Dumbstruck but glowing with inner anticipation, Dean gushed, “I’ve already made up my mind, so hell yeah, let’s do this!”

The faintest sense of sternness hadn’t left Castiel’s posture. “If you’re sure…I can only think to confirm one other thing, then.” Every line in his face, his brow, his cheeks, his mouth, all softened. “Why exactly is it that you wish to soul-bond with me? Other than the obvious yearning, of course.”

…Huh. Dean had to think about that for a few moments, but the answer came to him as easy as 2+2.

“’Cause…we’re obviously meant to be together; I knew that even before Chuck pointed it out. But it also feels right in every way I can think of. I just wanna be as close to you as possible.”

Castiel softened even further, his wings lowering and feathers fluffing.

“What about you, then?” Dean reversed the question.

“Me?” Cas’s eyes widened. “Well, my reasons are complex, but in simple terms…I can put it this way.”

Striding forward to face Dean squarely, Castiel tiled his head as he pondered what to say. The speech that resulted left Dean breathless and firmly put down any subconscious doubts he may have had.

“Loving you is like…loving a dandelion,” Castiel described. “You’re beautiful and admirable in your own right, yet so fragile that, from my perspective, the wind could break you. Yet despite being small, you stand out in a field of flowers. Your time on this earth is fleeting compared to mine, and though I know you have a place in heaven…it pains me to think that your life should ever be snuffed out.”

Sighing loudly, Castiel’s stance faltered. “After what Raziel did to you, I…I felt the most profound pain of my existence. If bonding with you, aside from the many other benefits, means ensuring that you will live as long as you like with each of us efficiently, closely guarding the other, I wouldn’t hesitate to go through with it. I know that with certainty.”

Frowning to himself, Castiel directed his gaze towards the floor. “But of course…dandelions aren’t ordinarily meant to live forever or be imbued with extreme celestial magic. In the end, the choice is yours. Know that whatever you choose, it won’t dampen the already profound bond we have forged. You’ll still be my dandelion to watch over, treasure, and be amazed by.”

Rather than try to organize or dissect the cheesiness of Castiel’s explanation, Dean said the first thing that came to mind. “Dandelion, huh? That another new nickname?” He smirked. “That make you the honeybee?”

Puzzled, Castiel stared at Dean, trying to decipher him as he always did. “I suppose, yes, that would count as another nickname. More to the point, what are your concluding thoughts on the soul-bond?”

Smirking fondly, Dean confidently affirmed, “Let’s do it.”

Returning with a fond grin of his own, Castiel reached out to touch Dean’s shoulder. A sudden, terrifying whooshing sensation gripped them both for a split second, but just as quickly they reappeared in a different yet familiar location.

“Gah, warn me before you zap us somewhere,” Dean complained, but there was no real bite to his words.

“Provided we succeed in bonding our souls, you’ll no longer need a warning,” Castiel countered, wandering around the small, wooden room he’d taken them to.

Speaking of said room…Dean recognized it the instant he took the time to examine its contents. Shells littered a nearby dresser, sparse leaves and feathers were strewn everywhere, and some palm leaves pinned a bug net surrounding the room’s bed into a distinctive bower shape. The rumble of ocean waters was a constant, soothing backdrop, easily permeating the slatted windows.

“What—how—” Dean sputtered, spinning around the room. “Our _nest_?”

Sheepishly pushing the net into a better position, Castiel muttered, “Not exactly…it’s my best attempt to recreate it. Our world’s Annalise was so thankful for our help in freeing her from Annaron that she agreed to let me use this room for a while. I…did what I could to replicate our nest.”

Brimming with amazement, Dean praised, “You clever bastard. This is sweet as all get-out.”

Castiel’s wings flexed high at the praise. The long tips of his flight feathers brushed along the billowing edges of the bug net, holding it open as a silent offering. Dean ducked beneath the gap, watching his head as scattered pieces of sea glass rattled about from the movement.

Dean had scarcely mounted the bed before Castiel, too, ducked beneath the net and joined him. The mattress was as comfortable as Dean recalled from the one night he actually got to sleep in the thing. As far as he could tell, there was no difference between this world’s bed and the other’s; evidently, thread-counts remained the same across worlds. Good to know.

Only when both he and Cas were perched within the center of their nest did Dean realize he had no clue what to do next. From what Castiel had told him, there wasn’t a whole lot he _could_ do—maneuvering one’s own soul was a feat in and of itself, whereas Cas’s grace was a natural conduit he knew how to manipulate freely. Still, Dean didn’t wanna just sit there feeling useless.

Even if Dean couldn’t do any fancy soul tricks, he could most definitely contribute in other ways. Grinning, he shimmied closer to Cas across the blankets, scattering some of the dark, downy feathers the angel had arranged there. He cupped one of Castiel’s cheeks, lightly scratching over the stubble there, and faltered. Ordinarily, Dean felt confident in matters such as this, but the added variable of soul-bonding left him out of his depth.

Cas must have caught on, because he smiled reassuringly and enclosed him in his wings, pulling him nearer until Dean was basically in his lap. Their noses and instinctually rubbed together in an Eskimo kiss, followed thereafter by bunches of actual, deep kisses.

Then, Castiel’s hand found its way to the center of Dean’s chest. Light but definite pressure emanated from his palm, and Dean leaned back, a silent question on his lips.

“If you’re ready,” Castiel gently offered, “we can begin.”

Nervous, excited butterflies swarmed in Dean’s stomach. This was it, no going back…he nodded his consent.

Mirroring the nod, Cas tightened his wings to pull Dean back into his palm. “Before we can proceed, I have to locate your soul.”

A reflexive snort burbled in Dean’s throat, ruining the moment. “Aren’t human souls supposed to be…like, beacons? I’ve seen you reach into someone Temple of Doom style to feel their soul before.”

“That’s different,” Cas dismissed. “That method may be efficient, but it is also intrusive and painful. I would rather let my grace explore and meet your soul in a calm state, even if it takes longer; that will foster trust and strengthen the bond.”

“…Alright, I trust you.” Dean shifted to be more comfortable in Castiel’s lap, lazily draping his arms over the angel’s shoulders and watching his own chest with curiosity.

A static-charged mist seemed to emanate directly from Castiel’s hand and into Dean’s skin, simultaneously cool yet warm. It took every ounce of willpower in Dean’s being to resist his hunter instincts and sit still. That mist—Cas’s grace—twisted and took on a life of its own, moving along under his skin and harmlessly probing at the gaps between his ribs.

“Oh, that’s…” Dean sounded puzzled. “That feels weird.”

Castiel looked into his eyes with concern, halting his grace’s encroaching flow.

“…But, nice,” Dean concluded, smiling at the angel as he adjusted to the sensation. “Keep on keepin’ on.”

That was the most accurate way Dean could think of to describe it: weird but nice. There was no pain, no force poking itself where it wasn’t wanted. The grace worked as gently as Cas would have with his fingertips, perhaps even more so, leaving pleasantly light trails on his skin, bone, and muscle.

Dean was tempted to make a joke about “playing Operation,” but it didn’t feel right. This was the exact opposite of a medical examination; not cold, impersonal, and situated on business, but warm, familiar, and interpersonal, meant for just the two of them.

Some minutes of this passed, Castiel keeping his eyes closed as he used his grace like a sixth sense, mapping out Dean’s organs and essence. Bit by bit, that soothing mist sifted through the layers of Dean’s being, caressing every inch for good measure as it dove beyond physical reach.

“I’ve found it,” Castiel eventually announced, his eyes shooting open.

Dean couldn’t help it; he squirmed a little as he felt Castiel’s grace reaching deeper than he ever thought it capable of. “W-what now?”

“Now we undergo the actual bonding process.” Castiel pressed his palm just a bit harder into Dean’s chest. “This may take a whi—”

In an instant, the grace somehow poked even _deeper_. A noise caught in Dean’s throat; it didn’t hurt, not at all, but it surprised him more than a little.

“…Or perhaps it won’t,” Castiel concluded, puzzled. “I understood that normally it takes much longer for grace to gain access, but…your soul accepted me with open arms almost immediately.”

“Guess it just wants to get this show on the road, huh?” Dean was still cracking jokes, but he’d be lying if he declared himself devoid of concerns. “Uh, any idea why it…?”

“Now that I think about it, it makes sense.” Castiel pensively stared at where his hand rested on Dean’s chest. “Our circumstances are quite unique. Your soul must recognize me from when I raised it from Hell.”

Eyes widening in disbelief, Dean asked, “After all that time?”

“The way your soul was then, I should doubt it would ever forget. This is a good thing, though; it will make the process much easier.”

“If you say so,” Dean brushed off. “Just…be careful, alright? That’s precious cargo you got there.”

Nodding dutifully, Castiel promised, “I intend to handle your soul as gently yet reverently as possible, Dean. You have my word.”

Concentration replaced the gravity on Cas’s features, and Dean abruptly found himself wriggling slightly to accommodate the presence of two core essences within him. For the first time, he actually felt like he could place and notice his soul’s existence within the depths of his core, all because a foreign entity was outlining and pointing it out to him.

It felt like an epiphany—“oh hey, here’s this key part of my very being locked way far down, neat”—but also like the greatest relief he had ever felt in his goddamned life.

As tendrils of grace cautiously encircled his soul, he felt a safety otherwise unattainable to him. He could feel the warmth and chill cradling his spiraling, inward self, and for the first time felt like nothing in his entire world of monsters, inner or outer, could hurt him.

For a moment he felt lie he could literally cry, but he refrained so as not to alarm Cas. There was such a perfect storm of physical and emotional security, simultaneously uplifting and soothing sensations, that Dean couldn’t sit idle. He shimmied closer in Cas’s lap, squashing his hand between them, and kissed him for all he was worth.

The grace faltered for a split second, but Cas recovered quickly and so it resumed tracing every line, swirl, and light of the soul in its embrace. The process noticeably slowed down as Cas kissed Dean back, dividing his attention between the two tasks. Dean didn’t actually mind; if anything, he’d take any excuses he could think of to keep this going for as long as possible.

This was intimate, no doubt about it. But Cas had been very explicit in telling Dean that a soul-bond was not sexual in nature, not even close. It was an emotional interaction of the highest degree, but no, not sex. And now that he was feeling it for himself, Dean had to agree; this was unlike anything he’d ever experienced. It transcended human conventions of nearness and romance. The best comparison he could make was to cuddling, only between two, nebulous forms within him and considerably more sensitive than he used to.

Each time Dean had to pull back to breathe, he couldn’t stop himself from nuzzling his and Cas’s noses together. It was sappy, yes, but so was this entire thing, and he felt too nice in that moment not to. 

After a few minutes of alternating, those little tingly tendrils of grace fused together into a blanket, enclosing their chosen soul from all sides. And _that_ was just another step further, upping the protection and comfort. For Dean, it was like feeling Cas in a whole new way, being closer to the angel’s true form than ever before.

That yearning only grew more insistent the longer the bonding dragged on. Cas was taking his sweet time, and though Dean wasn’t complaining, he was getting restless. On pure instinct, Dean moved to hide his face in Castiel’s neck, gently nibbling on the tender skin there. The blanket of grace shimmered and briefly convulsed in tune with Castiel’s resulting laughter.

“De-he-hean!” Castiel laughed. “You’re distracting me. Soul-bonding takes considerable concentration.”

“Mm, fine,” Dean relented, instead nestling into Castiel’s collarbone and letting the comfort consume him.

Several minutes of nestling later, the embrace of grace in Dean’s system tightened around the sensitive mass he’d come to know as his soul. He inhaled sharply, and Castiel responded by rubbing his wings up and down Dean’s back to relax him.

“What was that?” Dean choked out.

“Our essences have imprinted on each other,” Castiel answered, his voice distant. “Now all that’s left is to finalize the bond. I’ll warn you, this last part is a bit intense; I’ll need to contact the very core of your soul.”

Swallowing a lump in his throat, Dean nodded. “What’re you waitin’ for, then?”

“I just want to be clear: this is our last chance to back out of this. Once our cores contact each other, we will be bound intimately and irreversibly.”

Dean only needed a few moments to solidify his decision. “Hell yeah. Bond me up, Scotty.”

The side of Castiel’s head leaned against the top of Dean’s. Dean belatedly realized that the angel was performing his signature head tilt, and he sputtered with brief giggles into the crook of Castiel’s neck.

“What…does that mean?” Castiel ventured, and bless his heart, he actually sounded concerned.

“Just meant go for it,” Dean clarified, exhaling warm breath along Cas’s back. “Remind me to marathon Star Trek with you later.”

“…Okay. In the meantime, brace yourself.”

So Dean did brace himself, holding himself taut and retreating from the warmth of Castiel’s shoulder. He’d scarcely gotten far enough to look at the angel’s face before he felt something miraculous.

A narrow limb of grace pierced beyond the outer layer of light in its embrace, painlessly worming inwards. The remainder of the misty blanket thrummed possessively, funneling inwards through the small puncture. It was like being filled with the purest, warmest sunlight to ever kiss the earth, and Dean groaned at the pleasant surprise.

The initial strand of grace reached its target within moments, contacting a tiny point of sensation in the center of it all. Cas was right; it was intense, emotionally speaking. Whatever portion of his soul this was, it comprised the very essence of who he was, beyond his skin, demeanor, and tough-guy act. This was the true _him_ , and he realized just how serious Cas had been about a soul-bond being fostered by trust.

Delicately, the grace spiraled and encircled his soul’s core. Energy funneled along its branch from the outside, pushing it onwards and heightening the inner warmth it imbued in Dean. As it spread and enclosed itself around that single point, Dean could feel as every last crack, dent, or bruise dealt to his shell-shaped soul was healed over. Every mar glowed with new, brighter luster as Cas’s grace filled the missing pieces, and for the first time Dean could remember, he felt whole.

Now fully unable to help himself, a single tear did drop from Dean’s eye, landing with a plop on the back of Castiel’s hand. The angel sharply glanced up, but softened once he took in Dean’s awestruck emeralds and smile.

Distantly, Dean was aware of a new, growing presence in his mind, an abstract but very real cognizance that grew and grew with each time grace wound itself around his soul’s core. That soon took a backseat, however, to the solidifying warmth in his chest. The grace completed its rounds, tying itself off from the source. A small snippet of Dean’s own essence effortlessly travelled up the spiral staircase of glowing grace, cradled with care by the rest of Castiel’s energy.

Despite giving up a portion of his soul, Dean felt no less empty for it. In fact, he could still feel the collected portion of his inner light as it followed the guideline of grace outwards, through his insides and into Castiel’s hand. The oddest sensation of all was when that bit of his soul centered itself in the well of Cas’s celestial light all on its own, pulsing brighter. Though visually imperceptible, Dean could feel all of it instinctually through a sixth sense of sorts. He wondered if this was what it felt like for Cas to use his grace…

Dean’s attention was torn back to his own soul as the grace surrounding it surged with an affirming light. It felt like a tiny sun was burning in his soul, and overcome with the feeling, he automatically clung tight to Castiel and flung himself into the angel’s embrace. Cas mirrored the action, squeezing Dean to nearly the point of discomfort with the combined force of his wings and arms. They buried their faces into each other’s shoulders as, at last, the bond solidified.

The grace surrounding the exterior of Dean’s soul gingerly retreated, going back the way it came as it was suctioned up by Castiel’s hand. In its wake, it left a spiraling portion of itself around the inside of Dean’s soul, a constant, reaffirming presence that Dean already felt he couldn’t live without.

He hardly even realized he was breathing heavily until he felt Cas doing the same, releasing puffs of heated air that skittered between his shoulder blades. The two held each other for a solid minute, adjusting to the bond and unwilling to let each other go. Dean tried to pull back, but found the absence of Cas’s physical form against him too discomforting.

“Don’t let go,” Castiel quietly pleaded, hugging him even tighter.

“Wasn’t planning on it,” Dean huskily assured.

Several minutes must have passed as the two held each other as close as physically possible, sharing warmth and wonder between them. The ocean crashed and sang in the distance, until then forgotten by the pair.

Eventually, Cas heaved a shaky, relieved sigh. “It takes a while to adjust. New bond-mates can scarcely sever physical contact, let alone leave each other’s presence.”

Humming absently and tracing circles on the fabric of Castiel’s trench coat, Dean replied, “Yeah, I kinda got that.” He paused. “Bond-mates?”

“That’s what we’d be called now,” Castiel said contentedly. “Or at least, that’s the most succinct translation from Enochian I can think of.”

Seeing as he’d be in this position for a while, Dean asked, “What’s it mean in Enochian?”

Foreign associations Dean somehow understood suddenly flashed through his mind. He reeled somewhat, but calmed as he felt a familiarity to the meanings, paired with a soothing reassurance.

“Commahoateh,” Castiel intoned. “From the root words commah, ho, and hoath.”

Each word sparked an accompanying meaning that flowed into Dean’s awareness. Without being directly told, he knew that commah meant “bound together,” ho meant “true,” and hoath meant “lover.”

“Bound together true lovers…” Dean muttered, shocked by his understanding. “How…how did I figure that out?”

Chuckling affectionately, Castiel explained, “I shared my knowledge through our bond. Through our innate connection, we can freely share feelings, memories, and sensations without the use of words.”

“Wow…that’ll come in handy. Um…so I can do that too?”

Humming thoughtfully, Castiel surmised, “It may not come as naturally to you, but with practice, certainly.”

Gripped by determination, Dean focused all his thoughts on one particular memory, visualizing it flowing into Cas’s brain. He didn’t really know what he was doing, but all he could think to try was to imitate the examples of telepathy he’d seen in movies.

Dean was sure he’d been unsuccessful until Cas muttered, “Oh, ‘beam me up, Scotty.’ So that’s what you were referencing.”

“Wait, holy shit, that worked?”

Hesitating, Castiel admitted, “Only partially. I could sense your effort through the bond and latched onto it to help it along.” Sensing Dean’s disappointment, he encouraged, “You’ll learn with practice, Dean. For a first try, that was actually rather impressive.”

“Thanks, Cas,” Dean murmured, running his nose along the hairs at the base of Cas’s neck.

Squeezing Dean tighter for a moment, Cas warmly replied, “You’re welcome, bond-mate.”

That name sent a thrill through Dean, particularly now that he knew the etymology of its Enochian roots. He held Cas tighter in turn as the yearning that had dominated his being for so long ebbed and softened.

Finally, they both felt comfortable enough to separate somewhat, although they still kept their arms decidedly around each other. Dean didn’t dare remove himself from Castiel’s lap, only leaning back enough to look his angel in the face. Only then did he realize that he felt a lingering sensation in his chest where Castiel’s hand had been.

Spotting Dean’s perplexed expression, Castiel asked, “How do you feel, Dean?”

Dean drew a blank. “Um…warm?”

One of the first things Dean noticed was that he still felt warmth in his chest even well after Castiel retreated. He stared down at the warm spot and brushed his fingers against it, marveling at the odd but pleasant sensation.

“I’m not getting a fever, am I?” Dean asked, taking to poking at his chest.

Castiel smiled a smile that made a whole different kind of warmth swirl in Dean’s chest. “Not at all. That is one of the side effects of bonding with grace: your body temperature, particularly around your torso region, will be somewhat higher. You may find yourself overheating a little easier, but I imagine you’ll find it useful when it’s cold.”

“Sure could’ve used this back in Alaska,” Dean quipped, still staring at his chest in wonder.

“At the least, you had my wings back then.” The angel paused. “When you weren’t stubborn enough to refuse them, that is.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean waved a hand, embarrassed by the memory. “I had the whole constipated asshole routine down to a tee back then, let it go already.”

Grinning in good humor, Castiel shifted ever-so-slightly on the bed. “I think you’ll find that your increase in temperature has other benefits.” Stretching his wings out behind him for a moment, Castiel pulled himself and Dean down sideways until they were laying on the bed. “For example, it’s very pleasant to curl up around.”

With that, the angel drew his wings over himself and pulled his legs in somewhat until he resembled a feathery little ball. He schooched as close to Dean as he could get, leaning towards his warmed chest and settling there with a pleased sigh.

Blushing a bit, Dean wrapped his arms around Cas to pull him even nearer. “This mean I’m gonna be your hot water bottle from now on?”

“You say that as if you weren’t already,” Castiel countered smoothly, nuzzling closer.

“Heh, you got me there…” Dean trailed off, still in awe at everything that had transpired. “What’s it like for you, then? What’s it feel like bein’ bonded to a human soul?”

“Hmm…well, for one thing, I’m very in tune with your emotional state,” Castiel started. “My grace collected a piece of your soul for safe-keeping in my vessel, and additionally I can sense you through the thread of grace I left with the rest of your soul. Human emotions are very complex and overlap a lot, but…I think I understand them enough to decipher what you’re feeling.”

Smirking competitively, Dean challenged, “Whatcha find then, Sherlock Holmes?”

Frowning in concentration, Cas answered, “I detect contentment…weariness—no, I believe sleepiness would be the more apt term. Some…” He huffed a chuckle. “Some lingering sense of novelty about this whole thing, which I can’t help but find amusing. But…and I suspect you may have asked your question with this in mind…I can easily feel your endless well of love and commitment, too. And…” He practically beamed, burying his flushed face into Dean’s chest. “It makes me very happy.”

Flushing a little himself, Dean scritched his nails through the feathers of the nearest wing he could reach, earning a purr from Cas. “Good. Always wanted you to be able to feel that.” He paused. “Man, you really have turned me into a massive sap.”

“I hardly see that as a bad thing,” Cas countered.

“I didn’t say it was. All I’m wondering is when my life turned into such a rom-com.”

Fond laughter vibrated in Cas’s chest, transferring to Dean. “I’m very glad we did this. I feel a constant awareness of you, and that will continue even after we inevitably physically separate.

For now, the mere thought of pulling apart made Dean tense. He entangled his legs with Castiel’s, insistently pulling him closer. “Mmm. That ain’t happenin’ for a while.”

“Indeed.” Curling inwards towards Dean’s new warmth, Cas breathed a sigh. A fluttery shudder filled the room as his feathers ruffled up, stood on end for a few seconds, then settled.

“Your wings just did the thing,” Dean giddily observed.

Peering up, Cas wondered, “What thing?”

“The bird thing, where their feathers ruffle up when the settle in somewhere? That was freakin’ adorable,” he cooed.

“I’m glad you find my bird-like qualities endearing.”

“Sure do. This nest is a great example, really.”

“Hmm…”

“…Are you _sleepy_?”

“I’m not,” Castiel denied. “I’m just feeling the effects of _your_ sleepiness.”

“Oh…” Dean felt a little bad. “Should I sleep?”

“You don’t have to.” Castiel shifted, nuzzling his cheek all around the warm patch on Dean’s chest. “Although I can’t sleep, drowsiness is a calming, pleasant sensation for me. But if you wish to sleep, you should.”

“I do, actually,” Dean admitted, yawning. “S’not like we’re going anywhere for a while.”

Humming in agreement, Castiel clung to Dean even tighter, making his heart leap.

“You’re not lettin’ go of me anytime soon, are you?”

“After becoming so close and intertwined with you, I scarcely intend to let go of you ever again.”

Craning his neck, Dean delivered a kiss to the top of Castiel’s soft, bushy hair. “Fine by me.”

“Here,” Castiel offered, and before Dean could ask what he was being given, he felt that lovely, warm presence deep in his ribcage coil a little tighter, caressing the inner and outer layers of his soul. Dean could’ve melted under the subtle sensations, feeling waves of pure security emanating from his core and spreading all over.

“Awesome,” Dean murmured, his eyes fluttering closed all on their own. “Do I have this to look forward to every night from now on?”

“Whenever you should want it,” Cas replied, smushing his lips against the heated patch of skin to heighten the feeling. “And with time, you’ll learn to reciprocate.”

Gratitude and delectation abounded in Dean’s heart. Cas must have picked that up through their burgeoning bond, because his grace tended to Dean’s soul with even more, gentle care, cradling it like a precious jewel.

Already surrendering to the pull of sleep, Dean murmured, “G’night, bond-mate.”

“It’s actually the afternoon, according to Dominican time,” Castiel replied matter-of-factly.

Light laughter lifted Dean’s soaring soul even higher. “Never change, angel.”

Accepting this with a drowsy hum, Castiel relented, “Very well. Good afternoon, hoath.”

The meaning “true mate” accompanied the Enochian word in Dean’s thoughts, sending an undeniable ripple of possessive pleasure through him. First they were husbands, and now they were bond-mates, spiritually joined in both the metaphorical and literal sense. Nothing could have pleased Dean more, he concluded, succumbing to the warmth in the air and in his core.

And alright, so maybe getting married had made Dean a little soft, and maybe a soul-bond with his husband had just softened him even more, but as he felt their essences intermingling, knowing they would forevermore be an inherent part of each other, Dean found that he didn’t really care.


End file.
